Paying my Karmic Debt

As soon as she moved in I knew – this roommate would be different. In just two days she had completely repainted her rooms and, even more impressively, decorated them. With style. And we have similar tastes – she loves plants, lots of light, cleanliness, cooking, cleanliness, eating, cleanliness, drinking, did I mention cleanliness? But what topped it off – what solidified my affection – was when we discovered we have the same size feet and she said I could borrow any of her shoes. This, was love.

We leave each other little notes, write ridiculous things we say up on our wipe-board as our inside jokes, cook for each other, treat the other to a bottle of wine on particularly bitchy Mondays, sit on the couch and read together, watch stupid movies, hang around in our matching striped leggings on Sunday mornings – it’s like all the benefits to having a partner (sans sex of course) without any of the hassle. It couldn’t be better (except maybe if there was sex. And she was a man. But then it would be worse so never mind). I no longer feel the need to completely control everything in the house. I’ve stopped cleaning compulsively. I’ve let the mail pile up. I’ve even left things laying around where they don’t belong. All because I actually feel comfortable in my space. I can relax. I can live in my house. This is a completely different experience than I’ve had for the past year and, now having something functional to compare it to, wonder (like I do with most…of my…romantic relationships…come to think of it) what the hell was I doing? How did I let that go on?

There have been little things along the way that have made me realize how completely different things are with Jessie in my life. Those are the moments that make me reflect on how thankful I am to have a somewhat normal roommate with relatively normal social skills, eating habits and sleeping patterns who cleans up after herself, recycles, understands the concept of composting, identifies chocolate as a major coping mechanism, enjoys living in a nice space and actually notices when the garbage is too full and needs to be taken out. She even helps me do it.

One of those reflection moments happened recently when she had to leave really early in the morning for some school related trip. She had had a very busy and stressful few days leading up to the trip, and had let her dishes get a little out of hand (read: her dishes were pouring out of the sink; dirty, smelly dishes. Lots of them). By the time I got up in that morning she was already long gone. Her dishes, however, were not. I noticed the overflowing sink as I made my way to the bathroom. And? I didn’t care. I thought – Ohh, she didn’t have a chance to do her dishes. Who cares. (Here’s the best part) I’ll do them for her. And you know what? I’ll like it. Because it’ll help her out. Because she’ll appreciate the fact that I did it. Because I know she would do the same for me.

Tonight she’s coming home from Boston, after being away for a week on fall break. I cleaned the whole house while she was gone, baked cookies, watered her plants, and have been keeping everything impeccably neat for her return (like any housewife worth her salt would, of course). As I wait and pace like a puppy anxiously awaiting the return of her master, I realize one emotion I haven’t felt in a really long time: loneliness. But not any old loneliness – that I am well acquainted with. This is a special brand of loneliness; the kind you feel when someone you love leaves. The kind that appears in their void. I haven’t felt that way about a roommate in a long time, maybe ever. It’s made me sad and it’s made me more lonely in her absense. But I wouldn’t trade it.

So my conclusion is that, perhaps, I have paid my karmic debt as far as roommates are concerned. Maybe I’m over the hump. Maybe I’ve started to remove the freak magnet, piece by little piece. Either way, I feel confident that I can count on smooth sailing in at least one aspect of my life. I think they call that stability. It’s something to strive for.