...Actually, strange things are afoot here at 'Rueben's House'.
After the unnecessary buffoonery of Saturday night/Sunday morning (there's a thin line between em...) I spent all of yesterday in bed either sleeping or watching tv. Seriously, the only time I left my room in the past 30 hours was to go to the bathroom and an expedition I made to the kitchen to fix a turkey sandwich. I really needed the rest. So I'm still wearing my dirty 'I support single moms' t-shirt and a pair of boxers, having not showered or shaved since late Saturday afternoon. Basically, I'm spending my time off living like a cross between a typical bachelor and the Unabomber.
So I shuffled off to the kitchen again this morning to make a pot of coffee and a plate of frozen waffles, and I see my roommate dusting the living room and setting out coffee cups on the bar.
My roommate is a nice guy, a little older, and I've come to discover that he's an old hippie. Not the pot-smoking and protesting type, but some brush with mortality in the past has turned him into one of those vitamin and nutrition zealots usually found lurking around the campus at Chiropractic colleges or at New Age enclaves. That doesn't stop him from smoking a pack a day, however.
Anyhow, he tells me that he's hosting a presentation on nutrition and supplements today, and I'm welcome to join them. No thanks I tell him, using my work schedule tonight as my excuse that I'll need to sleep during the day.
About an hour later, I need to take my dirty breakfast dishes back to the kitchen and also get a refill on the coffee. Mistakenly thinking that I've still got the house to myself like I typically have during the day, I wander back out, still looking like a frat boy who's mission in life is to suck all the foam out of the leftover kegs the day after a rush party. But my kitchen is full of old women with beehive hair hairdoos and too much time on their hands. They stare at me like I'm don't belong while I calmly wash and dry my dishes and refill my coffee cup--with the good stuff from my coffee maker, not that cheap shiat my roommate drinks.
Breaking the uncomfortable silence, one of them invites me to join them in their Amway rally/Tupperware party, telling me that they've got presentations going on all afternoon. Great. Think I'll pass though. So I head back off to my bedroom anticipating spending the next couple of hours watching the season premiere of 24 I tivo'd last night.
I don't mind the fact that they're using my house instead of a hospitality suite in a local motel for their 'business' meeting, but I do kinda feel like I'm exiled to my bedroom for the entire day. Oh well, what can you do? In return, I expect my roommate to be as discreet next time I show up with a party bus full of strippers and midgets in the middle of the night.
Anyhow, after drinking an entire pot of coffee, I felt the need to use the facilities. So I picked up a sailing magazing, looking forward to the peacefulness of doing some reading in the most well-lit room in the house. I'd been in there a few minutes when there was a knock at the door.
I'm in here, I said.
That didn't deter the trespasser. She just opened the door and walked right in. Nice. I just looked up from my magazine and gave her a Do you mind? look and she beat a hasty retreat and mumbled an apology.
In retaliation, I didn't use any air freshener when I was done. I also took my towels with me (can't have strangers wiping their nasty hands on my stuff) and purposely put the seat back UP, marking my territory and reaffirming my Alpha-Male status.
Next time somebody walks in on me with my drawers around my ankles, she better be about 30 years younger and half as wrinkled, so I'll have to tell my roommate to try and recruit some younger members into his vitamin cult.
It's gonna be a long day.
Mikey
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