My roommate emailed me earlier today to say she wanted to talk about all this drama plus "a couple other things". So I spent all day fretting about what else I could possibly have done.
By the time she came home, she and I had already had about 20 imaginary fights. So it was pretty anticlimactic when we had a mature, calm discussion about her concerns, my sympathetic response to her concerns and then a friendly discussion about the last week's happenings.
I guess it shouldn't really come as a surprise that we fought and made up.
Here is a transcript of a conversation she and I had a while ago:
A: *something something* and then you get mad and slam your door
C: What? When have I ever slammed my door?
A: We got in a fight once and you slammed the door.
C: No I didn't. What fight?
A: Well I don't want to bring it up again.
C: Was it the time we got in a fight about the dairy industry?
A: No.
C: That time you were so mean about me going on a detox diet?
A: No.
C: That time I said the Bushes might be a nice family and you got so mad?
A: No.
C: That time I accidentally invited Nelson over for dinner? (Nelson is a neighborhood crazy. He didn't come for dinner.)
A: No.
C: That time I thought a moth was a cockroach and you called me a fucking idiot?
A: No.
C: That time I said Paris Hilton shouldn't have been in solitary confinement?
A: No.
C: That time we got in a fight about the shroud of turin?
A: No.
C: That time you were going to move out without giving any notice and then Sam turned off our power?
A: No. But you might have that time, too.
C: No I didn't. I give up, when did I slam my door?
A: It was right before our party when you said that you were throwing me a party.
C: OMG!! That time you got so irrationally pissed off because I misspoke. God, you're such an asshole.
Well, so ends another weekend here in Bed-Stuy. All is calm, the cats are looking out the window and I am going to get myself some ice cream.
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