Wanted (potentially, possibly, maybe, no sooner than next October): a roommate.
Must not be afraid of graphic shit on TV, and/or ambivalent toward sharing roomie marathons. For example, having read the books, I kind of think I want to watch “Game of Thrones,” but I’m such a chickenshit that I can’t do it alone. I need someone to squeal to when things get graphic and nasty. Similarly, having someone there to tell me when the horror movie commercials on TV end was a luxury I never appreciated to its full extent. I try to ballpark it and inevitably end up opening my eyes and uncovering my ears right at the peak of the scariness, and then my overactive imagination takes over and of course the creepy guy with no face is under my bed…the bed that I sleep in alone, making me extra-vulnerable to all things scary. Just waiting to get me. Because, you know, I’m 26 going on 6 and all.
Must enjoy wine. Wine goes bad if I open a bottle to have a glass, myself, after a long day at work or to savor a particularly good evening. I know I can't finish the bottle on my own in the time before it inevitably spoils, but I love to buy and drink good wine and wasting it seems so terrible. Maybe I just need to befriend my neighbors or something.
Should be committed to equitable division of household chores, ideally permitting me to handle all surfaces except the floors. I hate the floors, especially thanks to my beloved (but sheddy) polar bear rug. Bonus roommate points for bringing a powerful vacuum to the equation to vacuum up said polar bear-shed (and next year's inevitable holiday glitter explosion).
Ideally, would not be fazed by occasional sartorial assistance. Potential roommate must be willing to offer fashion advice and feedback at any time, including but not limited to before weddings (dressy), work (professional) and/or dates (duh). I will respect and admire the kind of future roommate who is unafraid to tell me that I own too many striped shirts, and to offer suggestions for alternatives that I will, potentially, someday love just as much. Getting zippers on the backs of dresses past that hard-to-reach middle-of-the-back spot is always a 30-second ordeal in the mornings now. Such a small thing, but it never fails to make me irritated and huffy, and a roommate who is unafraid to offer assistance in the event that I start frustratedly whimpering will have my heart forever.
Definitely must be confident in all things bug-related. I kill my own spiders now. To be fair, it’s never without a lot of out-loud pep-talking myself through it. It’s not even usually well-executed. I just grab the closest flat thing and start whacking in the general vicinity hoping for the best. Sometimes it’s a practical thing like a shoe or a spatula (which, duh, gets washed afterward). A few months ago it was my hair straightener. Which was heated up and everything. Not the neatest, but definitely effective. Roommate must either be willing to equitably divide bug-killing duties, or at least be there to offer moral support and a giant wad of paper towels to clean up.
Preferably a fan of brunch. Mostly so I can select the location of future shared apartment based on brunch places in the immediate, walkable vicinity. Further consideration will be given if prospective roommate is willing to go halfsies at a moment's notice when I invariably fail to commit to one menu item and end up in an existential crisis between the waffles and the eggs Benedict.
Future applicants should bookmark this post and bother me about locales next summer.
(This is mostly facetious. I love living alone, I have been incredibly privileged to afford to do it, and these last fifteen months have been soul-restoring in the most visceral way. That said, I am already starting to think ahead to what happens when it's time for Willow Street and I to part ways...and this is just a thought I've been kicking around.)