Since I left home around 7 years ago I have lived in a number of different places.
Minus college life (which was 3 years of boys and girls and alcohol and puke and 3am showers and tears and best friends and avoiding people/eye contact at breakfast) I have only really lived with girl roomies. Not really a deliberate preference, something that has just happened. There have been boyfriends here and there, re-occurring toilet-seat up behavior, but for the most part, only girls, and single ones at that.
My current apartment is the three of us.
When you enter my apartment, immediately to your right is a big double mirror door which when slid either side, reveals two packed in shelves of shoes. Pretty, colourful heels, boots, flats, strappy things that could actually be weapons. We try to keep them tucked away. But we are girls and girls are messy, so often there are a couple of pairs tucked neatly (read: scattered horrendously) on the shoe carpet when you first walk in. It’s handy for that pair of shoes you’re wearing day after day (lately in Toronto…anything waterproof).
So today as I sleepily went through my morning ritual (see face without make up…cry…put make up on…cry less) I almost tripped over a giant pair of MAN shoes. Leather type things with no laces. Fah-hancy.
I have seen this pair of shoes before.
Maybe three times now.
Shit’s getting serious yo.
My detective powers tell me that the shoes do not belong to any of the roommates currently residing in unit 1314 (1st clue = man shoes, 2nd clue = we are not men) and that they do not belong to a guest of mine (turn around, check bed, conclude no men there…move on). I have my suspicions that the roommate I share a wall with is not the man-shoe entertainer because I can hear every word of dialogue of whatever terrible show she is currently obsessed with.
Therefore, Watson…errr reader… I know exactly whence the shoe wearer went.
If these shoes are going to keep appearing on our shoe carpet, I’m going to have to start thinking about changing some of my late night/early morning habits. Perhaps I could invest in a burka to throw over my head first thing as I make my way to the room of acceptable-appearance making. This would save me having to put on more clothes and also would save Man-shoe from being turned into stone when he see’s my face (I’m nothing if not considerate and also…vain).
Perhaps we could clear a space in the shoe room for Mr Size-12 so that I don’t break my neck as I race out the door…
Should I bake a cake for him that says “welcome to our home Random guy, please don’t pee on our floor?”