The Chronicles Of Jessica

As roomates go, I guess I've had worse.

I'm an only child, which meant I had years to enjoy a room of my own and a share-less existence before I had to start dealing with roomates. I wish I had appreciated those years more. No one ever told me, "Someday a guy you live with will steal the keys to your car and make copies so he can drive it when you're not around" or "Keep an eye out for nymphomaniac tendencies which might cause your friend to start routinely accepting UPS deliveries in a much more personal way!" It never occurred to me that moving in with people might cause them to completely lose their minds, but a lot of them did. I'd have to say most of them did. I had this historically, epically bad luck with roomates which made me crazy for many years until I married Paul.

What a good decision that was. Not just because he's a great roomate, but really - he is. He washes dishes without you having to ask, he takes out the garbage, he hooks up the electronic equipment swiftly and with ease. He troubleshoots your iPod and computer and he goes to the grocery store without complaint - and he does it all looking so adorable, really. And the best feature about him is that he can be relied upon to kill the bug. This has come into play a lot in the last few days.

Sometime on Thursday night we noticed about 4 or 5 houseflies hanging around the apartment, which seemed weird, given that we live on the third floor and it's DECEMBER. By last night there were at least fifty. We have no idea how they're getting in, so we have no idea how to get rid of them. Flaky Landlady has been, as you can imagine, astonishingly unhelpful. On the upside, we have discovered Paul's hidden superpower - housefly homicide. He's amazing. Armed only with a New Yorker and an atomizer, he can swat them down out of the air on the first try and then kill them while they're lying there stunned. If they won't come down from a spot he can't reach, he shocks them by spraying water on them, then he kills them while they're lying there stunned. (While he does this I more or less sit around going, "Get him!" or else just lie there stunned.)

This morning when I came out there were about seven who were hanging out on the living room windows. Not being as handy with the rolled-up-magazine-of-death, I decided to try a different approach. I took out the vacuum cleaner and set up the wand attachment, then I sucked up those bastards with the most satisfying "thwonk" you've ever heard. I guess they might still be alive in the cylinder there, frolicking about with all our dust bunnies and wayward pubes that I've vacuumed up in recent months. Merry Christmas, musca domestica! BOO YA!

I think it's safe to say that this is the worst apartment in the history of apartments. My bad luck jumped from the roomates to the actual premises. We've had mice, mosquitoes, a housefly infestation. We have a persistent draft that rivals an arctic jet stream, I can't dry my hair and make coffee at the same time or the power blows - I bet there are squatters in crack dens that have a higher level of satisfaction with their living quarters than we do. But we have each other! At least until Paul finally loses his mind over all this and I have to have him committed.

I better run, we have some blood coming out of the crown molding and I gotta stock up on Bounty.