My father and step-mother are here for the night. Last night, they stayed in Kansas City with Lori and Eric so that Jen could get her grandma fix, and that was cool. I went up and hung out with them for a while and re-watched The Manchurian Candidate (the new version) and ate pizza. Today, they went to the KU game at noon, so they came down here at about 10 a.m., we (them and Maria & I) had breakfast at IHOP and did a bit of shopping, then they went to the game and I went on a cleaning frenzy. Then, I picked them up and drove them around for more shopping, and then drinks post-shopping, and then we came to the apartment. Lori, Eric, and Chase were waiting for us, and there was wine and cheese (Chase and I being the only non-drinkers for the day), and then Maria and Paul came and we went to dinner. I had sweet potato gnocchi, and wow, they were spectacular. And now we’re all home and they’re asleep in the next room.
The point of all of this is, it’s strange how wedded I am to having my own space. I love my family, I like having them close, and yet… it’s very, very strange for me to have anyone else in my apartment. I’ve started tracking down/thinking about places for my upcoming (August) move, and I’d started to think it might be worth it, financially, to get a roommate. I even know someone, a friend of mine, who would probably jump at the chance to split a place, because she hates her current roomie and will need someone to live with next year. But… wow, it would be weird for me to have a roommate. I mean, I completely fill my place, now, both bedrooms and the living room and the kitchen and everything, it’s almost all my stuff and it’s certainly all my personality. Also, I like living alone because this way, I subject no one else to my schedule. If I want to go make spaghetti at 2 a.m. and watch TV or listen to the radio while I do it, then I do it. Not so when I have a roommate or guests. I dunno. I need to remember how to compromise.
Grr. I hate moving, too.