I've had my fair share of crazy roommates over the years. In college it was a girl named Lori. She was super-religious to the point that she made a huge deal out of me wearing my cotton robe (a gift from my mother, so you know it wasn't sexy) into the kitchen in the morning when her boyfriend was in our kitchen. Since her boyfriend was always at our apartment, I thought it was a ridiculous complaint. Perhaps he shouldn't be there at 9 a.m. Once when I came in the kitchen to get some ice in my robe, she grabbed her boyfriend's arm to storm into her bedroom.
It didn't help that despite her "Christian convictions," she was selfish and rude. Lori and her boyfriend would help themselves to any baked goods I happened to leave in the kitchen, yet she'd bake a cake and store it in her bedroom until she had to dispose of the uneaten portion away. She practically called me a slut one night because she saw me kissing a guy, and upon questioning, I couldn't tell her his last name. Of course, her ridiculousness only provoked me (I was only 18...). Once I did crunches in our living room floor in a sports bra and shorts just to make her mad (her boyfriend was there). Another time a guy spent the night with me (but nothing had really happened) because he had drank too much to drive, and the next day I let him make me french toast in his boxers--knowing that she would come in from church (which ironically she never invited me to) to see this half-naked, very attractive football player in our kitchen. I knew what she would assume and of course didn't correct her. It was too much fun to see her get mad and flip into spiteful judgmental mode.
I enjoyed living alone after that, but finally did the roommate thing again to save money while I was in law school. This roommate was the other extreme, once calling me while driving drunk at 2 a.m. to ask me to get her sheets out of the dryer and put them on her bed because she was bringing a stranger home with her. Her friend also brought home a stranger, and I don't even want to know what they did in our living room. While I didn't pass judgment on what she'd done, I didn't like strange men in my apartment (I later found out one of them was a convicted felon...nice). And I didn't like being kept awake all night long. So I've been very grateful to live alone the last three years.
But Thursday night, I would have liked to have a roommate. I stopped at a gas station after work and bought a Kashi peanut butter/chocolate bar. I ate it on the way home. While eating some popcorn, my back started to itch. Then my throat started itching, so I took a Zyrtec, thinking my allergies were coming back. But then I started feeling sick and having difficulty breathing. I just thought I getting a cold, but then I realized I'd gone from fine to sick in about 20 minutes. A look in the mirror revealed a swollen eyelid, places all over my back that looked like bug bites, and swelling around my mouth. Then I noticed that my mouth was going kind of numb. I called my mom, and she could hear my breathing difficulty. She wanted me to go to urgent care or the ER. I hated to go to the ER given my horrible health insurance, and I think the people at urgent care are a step above monkeys--plus I feel like I'm swimming in germs when I'm there. So I went to Kroger, talked to the pharmacist, and swallowed a fifth of the bottle of Benadryl. Within ten mintues I felt better, although I pathetically wandered around Kroger (at least I needed some groceries) until I felt like it had all passed (thinking it would be best to be in public if I passed out or something). Unfortunately the emergency dose of Benadryl made me really sick, and I was afraid of going to sleep--because I didn't want to miss Grey's and was afraid I might start having trouble breathing again. So for once, it would have been nice to have a roommate or a McDreamy/McSteamy around.