Freshman year of college, I shared a room. This is fairly common but this is the only time in 8 years of boarding at school when I had to share my actual space. This meant no naked dancing and singing (although there was that one time when my whole suite...umm, never mind). Since our rooms were smaller, the dorm raised our beds a good four feet off the floors, so our drawers could fit underneath. There was some extra space, so I filled it with a ton of stuffed animals (yeah I'm that girl) and put up a tropical towel to block out the rest of the room (I was broke then too). I called this area my safe haven. I used to hang out under there occasionally when I needed to get away. Usually my roommate, who was really good about never trying to have me committed that year, would watch me go under without saying a word. One day, I was already under there when she came in. I stayed for another hour without saying a word. When I finally emerged, my roommate screamed. Um, sorry bout that.
Throughout the rest of college, I would continue to "run away" in not so subtle ways. Whether it was pretending that I wasn't home when people knocked at my door or having a strict no bra, lifetime movie marathon every Sunday rule, I was all about the "me time".
As you can imagine, moving back home where I share a room with my grandmother has really put a cramp in my "me time." As it stands right now, while I've been unemployed and living at home, I'm supposed to have three days a week from 10am-2pm blissfully by myself while grandma goes to senior day care. I crave these moments of silence. I job hunt, read emails, listen to my headphones and YES I do occasionally do the naked booty shake, just to prove that I still got it.
Because I so look forward to these moments, I become disproportionately disgruntled when they get stolen from me usually via the following ways
1. My brother (who snores loudly and therefore disrupts any essense of silence in the house) woke up late/has the sniffles/has errands to run and stays home
2. My mother has the flu AGAIN (my mother is incapable of just having the common cold) or
3. Grandma refuses or can't go to the center
Now I realize that whining about this makes me a brat but hell even Superman had to get away for while. Shoot, on that one Justice League cartoon, he stayed away on his own birthday (given, Braniac or some other baddy had brainwashed him and he needed rescuing, but you get my point). So I promise to stop whining, if someone could just perhaps find it in their hearts and/or pocketbooks to provide me with my own Fortress of Solitude.
Just in case you need a little guidance, here are my upgrades.
1. The whole place has to be super ridiculously soft. Like huge body sized pillows anywhere. I want the ability to take a nap anytime I want to.
2. I need a television with NO EVENING NEWS. Seriously, the news, at least in NYC, is the most depressing thing ever.
3. A really dope sound system.
4. A jacuzzi bathtub and unlimited supplies of bubble bath.
5. Only cheesy romance novels by or recommended by my favorite authors. I can save the autobiographies and historicals for when I come back. This is my time here people.
6. Rosie, the maid from the Jetsons. She can handle the housekeeping and provide me with just the right snack. ("Rosie, I'll take a Thai Iced Tea, a turkey burger deluxe and a tiramisu, please."7. A really fantastic view with maybe a mile long path for when I get the urge to take a walk.
8. A full dance studio with dance floor, bar ... and a pole. Stop judging me.
9. A Blair Underwood type (or actually Blair Underwood) manservant for, um, whatever else I need. (Hey hey hey, even Batman had Alfred. Why can't I have my own?)
So, internet world, if you can work on that and get back to me, it would be much appreciated. Until then, wine and chocolate it is.
You totally reserve a Rosie and a Blair, :)
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