Everytime my roommate’s boyfriend comes over, I’m sitting in the same damn chair, reading a book (except the one time I was watching “Bones”). Last night and this morning, two different books, same sweatshirt…same chair. I don’t know why I feel compelled to make him believe I do, in fact, move sometimes. I don’t know him and he doesn’t care, so why do I? Because I do lots of things besides read in that chair. Sometimes I read at Barnes and Noble, or Caribou.
I made someone cry on Friday. It wasn’t my intention, but so it goes. The situation is thus: there was a bunch of shit in my apartment when I moved in, and when it turned out not to belong to my roommate, I became convinced that a man had been living in my apartment. This because I have been watching too many crime shows and now consider myself a crack detective – and because the items left behind were a sleeping bag, beer, Doritos, and men’s clothing and shoes. It doesn’t take Grissom to figure this one out. So I reported it, suggested changing the locks, and the response I got suggested I was being paranoid (“there’s no need to be paranoid” it said). So I debated what to do, and in the meantime locked my door. I didn’t follow up on it more aggressively because communication with this office is so notoriously bad that I was not actually sure if I was technically allowed to live here (alum/staff status and all). Then on Friday I received an e-mail from the same office informing me that a male staff member had, in fact, been living in this apartment, and had come back and been surprised to find it full of other people’s stuff, and where did I put his clothes?
Well. Don’t tell me I’m paranoid for thinking a man has a key to my apartment, and then expect me to accept your apology when you realize I’m right a month later. I blew up on a voicemail, and then tried to be as even and eloquent as possible when I finally got the woman on the phone. It’s not easy to hear someone try not to cry, no matter how angry you are, and to be honest I’m quite relieved that I no longer have to freak myself out at night and think about installing my own locks.
We are returning the stuff and getting our locks changed, but it doesn’t seem like it should stop there. Although I’m ready to forgive the mistakes, I feel compelled to report this to a higher authority since it seems like a major security error, and I don’t want it happening to anyone else. Not to mention custodial – clearly they didn’t clean this apartment as they were supposed to do, and it really bugs my roommate that we’re “living in someone else’s filth.” I don’t want to make anyone cry anymore…but I don’t know what to do…