You know how in every pair of roommates, there is usually a weird one? Well, realizing yesterday that my roommate, for the most part, has her shit together I'm starting to worry that I am the headcase. She pays her bills on time, doesn't procrastinate on important things, and eats well-balanced meals (aside from that night we had cheesecake and cupcakes for dinner). I'm the one who regularly makes dinner out of a couple of crackers and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I'm the one who falls down after one drink. I'm the one pretends she doesn't hear it when her car makes a funny noise. I'm the one who can't even tell a boy she likes him and instead obsesses about it to her roommate and I'm beginning to think she is going to duct tape my mouth shut. And I wouldn't blame her. I'll even supply the duct tape.
It's OK, though. I don't mind being the crazy one. It's not like she doesn't have her own share of crazy, it's just that my crazy outweighs hers by, like, a lot. A fact that I think she's beginning to suspect. I saw the look in her eye when I showed her my "What Would Elizabeth Bennet Do?" t-shirt. That look said, "who is this lunatic I have picked to live with and I know she is my friend, but I am totally going to check and see if my bedroom door has a lock."