third wheel

I’m living with a guy that I could call my best friend, even though our relationship is pretty plutonic. I mean, we don’t have the moments where we both look up into the sky and wonder about the universe like I have with previous best friends.

Also, I’m pseudo-living with a girl who is also a very good friend. She really lives two doors down from us, but there is rarely a moment when she isn’t in our apartment. She sits and plays the 360, whiling away her hours while we watch. She’s polite and will get off when she’s asked to, but she’s always there.

<rant>

This is the difficult thing. She wanted to move out her house so badly, wanted to not live with her parents with such passion that she lolligagged about getting her stuff actually moved for over a month after she made the original agreement with the manager. On the night when she said she “had to leave,” the night when her parents were supposedly not going to let her come back in or something, she wasted time trying to decide what exactly was going, and what wasn’t.

I grew up in a house were you routinely moved using trash bags and boxes that defined labeling. I’ve done the one-arm-sweeping motion, or “this whole drawer goes in this bag.” Watching her pack was a mind-baffling experience.

Now, her stuff is in twice the disarray that it was in originally because she’s moved and never works on getting it fixed. She’s taken maybe one or two opportunities to reconcile the mess, but most of them were slow and left her in a very bad mood.

I understand that she is easily depressed. I understand that she doesn’t like being alone. But, my god, do you have to be in our apartment all the time?! I ought to make her pay part of the electric bill. She’s there more than I am!

</rant>

I feel better now.