(I am telling my roommate about my cousin who just paid for an operation on his cat.)

Me: “It cost him over $7,000!”

Roommate: “He could have had him stuffed and memorialized forever for less than that.”

(It’s my day off, and I’ve made popcorn as an afternoon snack. I don’t eat all of it, and I don’t want to throw half the bag away, so I put it in the largest container I can find: a see-through plastic one. My roommate comes home.)

Roommate: “I thought that was pasta! I was going to ask if it needed to go in the fridge!”

Me: “Haha. No, just popcorn! I didn’t want to throw it out if I might eat the rest in another day or two.”

(The next day.)

Roommate: “Your pasta-popcorn freaked me out again!”

(My roommate and I are best friends, and as such, we’ll end up staying up much later than we should just laughing and hanging out. Our sleep schedule is kind of messed up, but we’re trying to fix it. Our grades are good despite this, I should point out. One of our other “friends” — really just a girl whose existence and company we tolerate at times because she’s unbearable to be around for long — of her own accord, decides that we can’t be left to our own devices and need a “motherly figure,” as she put it. I’ve pulled an all-nighter to finish studying for a test. It’s eight am, and I have just eaten breakfast and crawled into bed for a two-hour nap, exhausted, when the girl starts pounding on our door. We ignore her at first.)

Girl: *peeking through a crack in our window blinds — the dorm rooms are a converted motel* “I can see that you’re in there! Open the door! NOW!”

Me: *mumbling through my pillow* “This isn’t happening.”

Roommate: “I’ll get it.” *she opens the door* “What do you want, [Girl]?”

Girl: “Get up! We’re going to morning yoga! I’ve signed us up, and since you guys obviously can’t take care of yourselves, I’m going to make you. Get dressed! Let’s go!”

(I snap. I’m less than nice when sleep-deprived, and she’s been pulling this kind of crap for a while now. It isn’t a nice gesture; she is going about it as if she is our savior or something and it’s a burden to do it.)

Me: *face still buried in pillow* “First of all, you can’t make us do jack-diddly squat. And second, I swear, if you don’t leave us the h*** alone, I will personally throw all 90 pounds of you off of the balcony and take my happy a** right back to bed.”

(I didn’t get to see her face, but my friend described it as “thunderstruck.” She sputtered and quickly left, thankfully leaving us alone for the rest of the semester. We honestly weren’t bad enough to warrant the need for someone to “fix” us. Our sleep schedule was a little off, that was it. Oh, and I made an A on the test! That all-nighter was definitely worth it.)

(My college roommate and I are randomly assigned, so we don’t know each other at all. One week into the semester, some of her friends stop by to pick her up for a party.)

Roommate: “I’ve got the brownies ready. Did you get the booze?”

Friend: “No, and our IDs got confiscated, so we can’t get any more.”

(Suddenly, all of them turn to look at me with a glint in their eyes.)

Me: “I’m going to stop you right there. One, I’m 20. Two, buying for a minor is illegal and punishable by a fine of ten grand and up to five years in prison, and I don’t like you that much.”

Roommate: “Fair enough.”

(It’s 5:30 am, and I’m just about to leave to go to work after having a rough morning. I’m a nurse with a 12-hour shift to look forward to. As I’m getting my shoes on, my roommate emerges from her room, chipper and perky.)

Roommate: “Good morning, [My Name]!”

Me: *groaning* “Well, it’s morning, at least.”

Roommate: *suddenly angry* “Well, jeez, who peed in your cornflakes this morning? I was trying to be nice!”

Me: “I told you last night that I had to be up at four am this morning, and the friends you invited over made so much noise that it woke me up… and they stayed until 12:30. I took two steps out of my room this morning, and your cat sank her claws into my leg, deep enough to draw blood, and started yowling because she thought I was going to feed her. I finally got to the bathroom and found that your other cat had clawed my brand-new towels down from the rack and taken a dump on them. Now I get to go spend 12 hours wiping the butts of people who either think I’m attacking them, or think I’m their long-dead wife. That’s why it’s ‘morning’ and not ‘good morning.’”

Roommate: “Well, there’s no need to be a b**** about It!”

(I’d been thinking about moving out for a while, but that was the final nail in the coffin. I moved in with my boyfriend just as soon as I could get my stuff packed, and eighteen months later, we still get along just fine. We have a dog; after my roommate’s little monsters, I have no desire at all to get a cat. Last I heard, she still had trouble with them pooping on her bed and linens.)