The Daily Tar Heel
Printing news. Raising hell. Since 1893.
Monday, March 18, 2024 Newsletters Latest print issue

We keep you informed.

Help us keep going. Donate Today.
The Daily Tar Heel

Welp:




Absolutely, definitely, completely not taken from the pages of my roommate's diary:

"Oh, you again. Don’t you have somewhere better to be? Oh right, you live here. The Roommate. Today I very nearly forgot that you existed for a full four minutes, before you began singing ‘Mr. Brightside’ at I’m-the-star-of-an-opera volume as you showered.

"Omnipresent and yet surprisingly elusive when I want you to take out the trash, The Roommate is often misunderstood. For good reason, too — The Roommate is full of paradoxes. How do I hear you or smell you almost constantly, despite the fact that I almost never see you? How could I have lived with you for a month now but I honestly don’t know what color hair you have? Am I what you are to me, to you? 

"Oh, Roommate. Most of what I know about you is, like an archeologist trying to understand the customs of an ancient civilization, based on long-abandoned artifacts. Also like the ancients, most of these artifacts are dishes and ceramics, long forgotten to time and daylight under a stack of other dishes, pots and pans in the very full, very bad smelling, sink.

"From the ample quantity of crusted dishes, I can infer you had oatmeal once back in late July. Further testing should confirm whether it was apple cinnamon or maple brown sugar flavor. Or perhaps it was a rice dish that is now much older, browner and squishier than it had been in its original state. From a scientific perspective, one is at a loss for how you could create such filth through cooking while simultaneously keeping alive such a teeming bacterial colony in an ever-expanding miniature shantytown of old takeout containers.

"From the sheer quantity of hair present in the drain, I can only assume that you molt like a snake, but like, somehow more; as if multiple snakes grew out of your head. I am also relatively certain that the clot of hair has grown strong enough that it now has a pulse, a will to live and long-term career goals. Oh Medusa, do you own a comb? 

"Likewise, I deduce from your violently squeaking bed that you have an active sex life, one that seems to strictly coincide with the hours of my would-be REM sleep. 

"That’s it for today. If I had to rate The Roommate out of five, I would definitely say a two. I would say lower but at least The Roommate respects my personal space and belongings — you know how there are horror stories about them going through your desk and reading your diary or looking through a peephole into your room or whatever. At the least, the respect is there. I’m lucky for that — gotta be thankful for the little things. Ok, journal, until tomorrow!”

opinion@dailytarheel.com

To get the day's news and headlines in your inbox each morning, sign up for our email newsletters.