A Textual Relationship

A girl – me – lays in bed relaxing and reading a book one evening. Kushka the Mystery Cat, stinky and cruel as per usual, crawls over the girl and hisses spiteful things at her while she tries to read.

On the nightstand her phone chimes indicating an incoming text message. She puts her book down and looks at her phone.

Madame X: Are you having internet signal?

The girl (me) replies: Uh… yes I don’t think there is a problem with it.

The back and forth continues…..

Madame X: You have box in room, yes?

the box she is referring to is this:

The girl (me): Yes

Madame X: I need eight number number on bottom of box. My internets are not working.

The girl (me): Wait – are you here at the apartment?

Madame X: Yes

The girl (me): Why don’t you come in my room and get it? I don’t mind.

Madame X: I am entertaining guest. Just give me eight number number.

End scene.

**********************************************************

Cliffs Notes to this text conversation:

1. My roommate is fucking crazy. She is in the room right next to me and refuses to meet me face to face. Hi. I have been living with you since the first of November. Fucking hello. Do you have any idea what I look like? Do you care? Oh, that’s right. No you fucking don’t.

2. I am crazier than she is. Not only am I putting up with a roommate who refuses to have face to face contact with me even a single time, I am living with a rude cat and picking up after it and crawling under my bed to get the eight number number off the wireless router for my rude roommate when I would rather be reading my book. The characters in the story are more real and familiar to me than the person I share a fucking toilet with.

3. Hey… Madame X… it’s eight DIGIT number. Not eight number number. Like, really?

4. How long can this possibly go on? I am seriously considering moving.

It has been suggested I do this:

I have considered it. But honestly I think Madame X would come home and walk right over me to get into her room so it wouldn’t do any good. Not sure what the next step is to take here. I don’t think I can legally install a camera in my apartment.

The Chi-Lites version not the MC Hammer version

I was going to do an entry about the cabinet filled with rolls of toilet paper that my invisible roommate keeps but then she did something so bizarre that we will just have to save that topic for another time. Don’t worry – I have pictures.

Here’s what happened: I was standing at the kitchen sink washing my dishes. The way the kitchen is set up, your back is to the doorway so you can’t see what is happening behind you. A don would not like this. I do not like this. Especially because this guy travels in stealth mode and can turn you to stone like Medusa if you look him directly in the face:

I have dropped entire plates of food when turning away from the counter and being shocked by his sudden presence. Woof. Anyway….

So I am washing the dishes, humming a song that doesn’t exist, when I hear feet moving rapidly in the hallway behind me and then suddenly the front door slams shut.

I turned to make sure what I thought I heard had actually happened.

“Yep. She gone,” Kushka hissed from the windowsill in the livingroom.

If you aren’t following the story that my ears and mystery cat have told here, allow me to break it down for you:

The water was running as I was washing the dishes. Also I was humming. These two sounds are a clear indication that there is a person in the kitchen. Also there is no door to the kitchen, only a doorway. As far as I know, Madame X is not blind or deaf so she had to of heard me and seen me as she went past to go out to where ever it was that she was going to. So she heard me, saw me and chose to run to the door and GTFO instead of saying “Hi, are you my roommate? My name is _______.” like any normal person would do if they are living with someone for almost three months and have yet to meet them. We share a CRAPPER, Madame X. Get with it.

WHY IS MY ROOMMATE HIDING FROM ME???

I am a very nice person, Madame X. I am a good roommate. I scrub the toilet. I take care of the cat that lives with us that doesn’t belong to either of us. I clean up after myself. I am making this living space as positive for us as I can.

Why are you avoiding me?

I would like to quote song lyrics now that make me think of Madame X. Please to enjoy and if you know the tune, please sing along:

“I see her face everywhere I go – on the street and even at the picture show. Have you seen her? Tell me have you seen her?

Oh I hear her voice as the cold winds blow – in the sweet music on my radio. Have you seen her? Tell me have you seen her?

Why… oh why did she leave and go away? Ooooh. I’ve been used to having someone to lean on and I’m lost. Baby I’m lost.

Have you seen her? Tell me have you seen her?”

Earlier I likened Kushka the mystery cat to Medusa. Now I am starting to think maybe Madame X is Medusa. Maybe she is protecting me by not letting us have face to face contact. Maybe her last roommate saw her face, turned to stone and that’s why she needed a new roommate. We don’t have a bug problem in our apartment like a lot of city apartments do. Maybe her snakes are keeping the creatures out.

Actually, I think it would be pretty fucking badass to have Medusa as a roommate. All those snakes would be a wonderful way of keeping out prowlers. And if someone asks me to describe my roommate it would be super fun to be able to say “She’s a real New York freak show. Head full of snakes, man. She’s something else!” Of course I would have to actually meet her to confirm if she is, indeed, Medusa.

There’s two of us playing hide and seek and only one of us wants to and it isn’t me. It is Friday the 13th. We are well into our third month of living together. 73 days. 73 days of “try and find me”.

This is fucking insane.