I need a roommate. Stat. It's just gonna have to happen. Warning: this entry doesn't put me in a good light, but at least I'm being honest. Here's the dirty details:
I love living by myself. I'm never alone at work. Never. So when I get home to my little sanctuary, I bask in the silence. However, as of late, I've realized that I need another person in this house.
I realize this when I look around. This place is ridiculous. Don't believe me? Let me just list a few things lying on my living room floor: the three purses I've used in the past two weeks, cell phone charger, take out menu, hammer, adhesive glue, book, sweatpants, two pair of shoes, a yard of burlap, work bag, hat, two bottles of lotion, magazine, cup, hat, & blanket. Just to name a few, of course.
Perhaps if I have a roommate I will make a little more of an effort to pick up after myself. Since I live all by my lonesome, that usually doesn't happen until Sunday.
Second reason I need a roommate: I'm a chronic over eater. Thankfully, my metabolism is an over worker. But it's just not healthy. I love, love, LOVE to cook, and so, I do. But then it's just me eating it. And I don't just love to cook; I'm a good cook. A really good cook. (My mom is rolling her eyes right now because her "don't brag on yourself" talk didn't work.) And because this food is so dang delicious, I eat it. Pretty much all of it in one sitting. I mean, we're talking like meal for 2-4 people. Then, I feel guilty for eating so much so I decide "what the hay, I'm just gonna make dessert and eat it too since I've already gone overboard." And this happens a couple of times a week.
I need someone to share my cooking with. And maybe if I had someone else around who could see my overeating slobby-self in action then I might would pull the last shred of dignity I have lying around under a plate of food or a pile of clothes and do better.
So yeah, if you're interested, let me know.
