and he asked, 'how often do you shower, even?'

I find that I owe some people an apology.  Am, Al, Courtney, Claire, and now, Chris.  I'm sorry.

I'm a horrible, terrible, awful, no good roommate.

I am shamefaced.  I am hang-headed.  I am regretful.  I am!

I'm possessive (it isn't nice.)  I need my space.  I'm messy.   I tell you, I'm just a horrible roommate.

I believe it all began in kindergarten.  Everything traumatic begins in kindergarten.  I say, they must put something in those graham crackers, like LSD because life is never the same after kindergarten.

Or in could have been birth, you never really know.

Anyway, in kindergarten.  I missed that day where you learn how to share.  You know, when we all play in the sandbox, and you have to take turn using the scoop to have fun? Yeah, no. Buy your own scoop and leave my alone.  I still think sharing is overrated.  And, for the record, when you ask to SEE something, you SEE with your EYES not with your HANDS!

You see, I always knew I was (am, whatever)...particular.  I just didn't realize how challenging I am to live with.

Like this one time, I had some beer.  And some food.  And my roommate had some people over.  They drank my beer.  And ate my food.  And I was livid.  Nevermind that she replaced it and apologized for her random friends drinking my beer.  And eating my food.

(It's the principle of the thing.)

I made my roommates agree to separate shelves in the fridge and cabinets for food after that.

I'm horrible.

Sad thing is, nothing has changed.  Even worse now, because I realize it, and I have to face my roommate every single morning and night.

I'm messy (oh, did I mention that?)  I leave my water cups by the bed for days.  I sometimes forget to pick up my shoes when I toss them off at the door, and really, who doesn't do this, I say?

I forget to unload the dishes.  I never fold the blankets on the couch the right way, so usually I just don't try.  (For the record, this is bad roommate behavior.)

I know, at this point, you're thinking, well, if she's knows it, why not shut up about it?

BECAUSE!

Because I never give up until I win.  I like winning.  Winning's my favorite.

While I may lose, repeatedly, as a roommate, I win as a wife.

I may be the roommate from hell (but I promise I won't steal your identity like in a Lifetime movie, or the new Leighton Meester one), but I'm one damn good wife.

To begin with, I wear a tank top and underwear to bed.  JUST a tank top and undies.  Points there.

I watch Family Guy EVERY NIGHT as we fall asleep and only complain once every two weeks. Points.

I try to cook.  When I fail, I make cute sad faces that make forgiveness all too easy. Points.

I then make up for it baking cookies, including oatmeal raisin cookies at hubs request at ten pm at night.  Major pointage.

I make crude jokes that make Topher's friends laugh.  Points (right?)

I back scratch as husband falls asleep.  Points.

I point out hot girls. Points. (and only sometimes do I stick out my tongue at him when he looks.)

And when husband makes dinner, I almost never spit it out (you know, except for than one time I couldn't eat the quinoa.) Also, because if I did, I'd be a bad roommate.) Points.

Hubs, on the other hand, is a fantastic roommate.  He cooks, he cleans, he hardly ever complains.  However, he also has to love me (HAS TO LOVE ME!), which I think makes all the difference.

So again. For the record. Bad roommate.  Good wife.  Just sayin.

Where do you land?