N1H1

Since we're on the subject, there was another rather crazy lady I lived with at one time as well. I was new to the town and I think I got the place on impulse. I was certainly way off with my first impression of her. She seemed relaxed and all at first but she basically turned out to be just the opposite. She had to have everything very very clean. I thought she may have been, you know, obsessive compulsive or something, but she told me she wasn't. And she acted like that even the idea of thinking that was pretty obsurd. Anyway, specific examples of creating misery...well first of all, she'd leave me notes quite often. You know, those little hot coloured blocks of sticky notes that you see, well, just about everywhere. Well, I would find one just about everywhere except in my room. Notes like reminding me to turn off the light after I'm done in the kitchen or please clean up my fallen hairs in the shower or around the sink, but they wouldn't be worded so simply. I can't really remember exactly what they said but I know they were annoying. Now, strictly speaking, the messages themselves weren't bad. Of course we all want to conserve electricity and be clean. Sure. And I would clean up. All the time. But her cleaning level was like brand new clean, I think. It was probably mostly just her personality or whatever, but she was also always mentioning that she didn't want to catch N1H1. What an idiot. She didn't even know the correct name of the disease she was so afraid of catching. And the light thing, well, I'll just say it - I like lights on. Not all of them or anything, but, you know, enough to see. And yes, I'll leave on the range light throughout the evening. I always have. It's like a night light in the kitchen. I mean - wait! Look! This is not me justifying my actions! Good grief. She was nuts. And I hated heading back to that townhouse (not an apartment) every single time because it was depressing and miserable and she'd always have something new to tell me that she'd like me to do or not do. And her whole delivery of it all was so annoying as well. I couldn't do anything, practically. One time I tried watching a movie downstairs (living room and kitchen down stairs, rooms upstairs), and I had on just enough so that I could hear it and she said it was really loud and it was bothering her. Later I tried watching one in my room and she said that that was too loud as well. And eventually, she would only use the upstairs bathroom just to shower and if I ever used the downstairs bathroom, she'd leave a horrible note on the door that said something like "Girls only please!" or something. I mean, we were both paying rent. It's not like I was in her house and she was renting out a room to me. Not at all. Man, it was a pretty lousy time. Just picturing her face in my mind and her talking makes me feel so awful. Fortunately, I was able to get out of there within a month after moving in. Since then, I've seen this woman at school a couple times and have really gone out of my way to not bump into her. Once she was actually talking to a professor in a hallway that I was going to talk to. I went all the way around the building to the other side so they were on the other end of the hallway and so it'd be harder for her to see me. I waited outside standing half behind a pillar, every now and then looking through the glass doors checking to see if she had left yet. She made me feel that miserable. It's like a nitemare but worse. You wake up from nitemares and you feel good because, hey, it was only a nitemare, a bad dream. But this. This was real. This was misery.