So, I moved this week - along with hundreds of other Bostonians. When I first moved back here, I was living in a sublet with a friend of a friend (we're now friends, awww) and my September apartment search started my first day back in the area.
I looked at some HORRIBLE places: one place was so small, and the girl living there had really long fingernails - like Guiness Book of World Records long - another place was occupied by female hockey players, which is probably someone's fantasy, but not mine, and another was occupied by a male copy editor who was very nice, showed me to the nearest library branch, but scowled at me on the street the next day when I said "hi" while running by. Thank goodness for my current living situation.
Before I met with my current roommate, who I found via Craigslist, I did the requesite internet stalking (as did she: she found out I was a member of a knitting community, so I had to be nice, she reasoned). I found out on Facebook that we have a mutual friend. Her name sounded familiar, and she looked familiar, too. Turns out, she dated my friend. Turns out, so did I. His current girlfriend is swiftly becoming one of my closest friends. What a fun, sexy time for us!
With his permission, I met with her and we got along really well! It's not entirely surprising. As much as anyone would hate to admit it, ex-girlfriends will most likely get along. Of course there are psychotic exceptions, but my roommate and I have a LOT in common. We are both in love with PBS Specialty Programming, for example. I recently picked up Regency House Party from the library, and we started watching it the other night. We were really confused by which cast member was which, so she started making a visual aid for us to have on hand while we watch. Basically, a poster board with photograph and brief biography. It warmed my crafty, glue-stick-loving heart. Also, she sends me emails like this:
"And while [her current boyfriend] was playing around with the [recently purchased/used] TV stand last night trying to figure out how to fix the drawer, a VHS popped out from underneath, elaborately labeled "RAP" in gold marker. We have to watch this tape."
I'll report back with what's on the tape, but I'm really hoping for the previous owner's personal foray into the art form.
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