Call Me Surprised: The Rachel Files

OrangeUnderwearIn a previous entry about my new temporary roommate “Rachel,” I said these immortal words: We both disclosed our quirks so that we shouldn’t be too surprised by each other. Hah. Just call me surprised.

Rachel is a member of my church who needs somewhere to stay for a few months until a place of her own opens up. Her move into my home was accomplished smoothly, thanks to other church members. She has been here about a month, but I am already looking forward to having my home back to myself.

The night she arrived, Rachel ended up leaving the lights on in the living/dining room because she “couldn’t find the switch.” No big deal, except for the waste of electricity. I showed her the light switch – problem dealt with. During the first week three other notable things happened:

1) Rachel scrubbed most of the sealant off my tub/shower stall. She has a “thing” about cleaning, and got a bit overzealous. Nothing is leaking yet, and I have grandiose plans to one day redo my entire bathroom, so I will leave it as is for now.

2) Rachel loves my dog – a bit too much. She is helping to earn her keep by walking him at noon most week days while I am at work. I assumed that the first time out, we would walk him together. Before I had an opportunity to explain this to her, she took him for a walk (along a busy street where I never take him because he doesn’t really like cars) while I was gone and without asking me. Ugh. We had a talk about this, and took him out the next time together.

3) Rachel presented me with a pair of underwear that I had thrown into the garbage. They were a relatively new pair – bright orange with lace trim. But I had thrown them out on purpose while doing the laundry. Rachel thought maybe they fell into the waste basket by accident. I suppose this is plausible and that she’s just trying to be helpful, but it creeped me out that she was digging through my garbage, touching my dirty underwear. Wouldn’t that creep you out? I explained their landing in the wastebasket was not an accident. She has since not rummaged through my garbage that I am aware.

I know I promised I wouldn’t turn this blog into a blow-by-blow account, but I fear I may need to in order to survive the experience.

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