The bad roommate

Dear Diary,

Here’s what Baby Brother has been doing inside my belly: “Move over, bladder, I’m trying to do my neck rolls! I can’t spread out my yoga mat; who left this rib here? Let me just kick it out of the way… umph, it won’t MOVE, WTF? Ooooooh, I want ice cream! Right now! Yes, I know I am pushing your stomach up into your throat with my legs, just eat it and suffer the consequences, woman! Hiccup, hiccup, hiccup.”

It’s kind of like having a bad roommate, and your lease is up in a month. You’re just trying to get through the next few weeks with no drama but he is driving you SO CRAZY leaving his empty diet pepsi bottles and knitting needles between the couch cushions and cooking weird things that smell bad and making that annoying “choo choo choo” sound when he walks into a room. And, you know, you kind of like him and you’re sure you’ll be friends once you’re not living together anymore but ugh you cannot stand another MINUTE with him in your space, oh my GOD!

So that’s where we are, Baby Brother and I. We just have to get through this next month. I just have to smile and put up with the empty diet pepsi bottles. He will move out and get his own place right next door. I’ll let him keep all the stuff he “borrowed” and I’ll even give him half the security deposit, even though I’m the one who'll get stuck moving all his stuff out and cleaning the whole apartment.


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