Sometimes, timing and events are just odd. As you know, I have been trying desparately to find somewhere closer to work to move to, as the gas and travel times are eating me alive (which I knew would be the case).
Over the weekend, I encountered an apartment complex who swore themselves blue in the face that they could find a way to rent to me. I let myself be suckered in and what do you know, today they turned me down flat just like everyone else has done. I don’t know why I keep trying, frankly.
I shot my daughter a text message about it because I promised I would let her know as soon as I heard. She replied with, “Maybe you should consider a roomate.”
Now. Here I will share with you that I have had precisely three roomates in my life to date. Each and every one has been an utter disaster. It’s annoying because I never fail to tell them straight and up front that I am a homebody, I do not ‘socialize’ much, I do not go out much, and for the most part, my living space is my personal retreat and sanctuary from the world.
What I usually do not tell them is that I’m still struggling to cope with long-term affects of my history and being in loud or noisy environments simply tears me up. There is a big part of me that still associates loud noises with impending violence and to this day, I will leap out of my skin if someone unexpectedly touches me or sneaks up on me.
It has improved. There was once a time when either happening would result in a completely reflexive lashing out physically. I have embarrassed myself on several occasions in my life by accidentally punching someone or pushing them into walls. That doesn’t happen much anymore, thankfully, but I am still very skittish and I have just found that I have a necessity that the place where I live and sleep is peaceful and quiet.
Add to this, most people really do not understand that when I say I am a homebody, I mean I STAY HOME and usually prefer to be left alone. I would come home and go to my room and pretty well stay there but for
excursions to the kitchen for supper or doing laundry, or whatever.
Now it’s different when I’m in a relationship. But since I’m not in one, I won’t go into that. Anyway… the three roomies I’ve had in the past inevitably went from saying their understood to being downright angry with me for not ‘buddying up’ to them or spending more time with them or any other iteration of something other than what we’d agreed upon in relation to sharing living space.
So I texted her back and told her simply that my experiences with roomates have not goine very well and due to this, I strongly preferred trying to find my own space/place to looking for roomates.
Now… less than three minutes after this silent exchange, one of my co-workers comes by and asks if I want to go out and have a smoke. It’s late in the day, I’ve already settled out tasks for the evening, so I say ‘sure’ and we head out. We’re talking casually and I happen to mention my frustration with looking for a place.
What do they say? I’ll tell you what they said. They said, “Have you ever considered having a roomate?”
I laughed and responded, “You sound like my daughter. We just were discussing this and I was trying to get her to understand that most people aren’t willing to accept that I really do mean it when I say I don’t want to be buddies, friends, whatever; that I’m someone who comes home and goes to her room and generally keeps to herself and likes it that way. And I’m also someone who needs quiet at home and most people aren’t as keen on quiet as I am.”
They looked at me and grinned and said, “You sound like me. How odd. I mention it because I have a room for rent in my house and have had the devil of a time finding someone who I could even remotely expect to be quiet.”
We talked a bit more. Turns out they have a house less than a mile from the office. Convenient to all interstates, shopping, medical, and more.
Rent and utilities would still be less than I’m paying now… and they do have a washer and dryer. Oh, and they don’t mind that I have two cats.
So…. I’m going to check it out after work. And if it looks like the kind of place I can live at and the layout and status of the environment is such that supports their assertion that their home is their sanctuary, it looks like maybe I have found a place after all.
Oh, and the kicker? (Brace yourself.) In the course of showing me photos of the place from the outside, they showed me their personal web site and what do you think was sitting in the header of the page?
(If you know me at all, you know the answer, and you also know what it means.)
More later.