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notsopeacefulIt's a school night and it's kind of a drive, but I just dropped some stuff off with Keith. I've been crashing at his place on weekends - "staying at a friend's" in teenager-to-parent speak - and last week he asked if I wanted to just leave some stuff there.
The question wasn't out of the blue. I'd been taking stuff with me, and I thought it would be easier to just leave it in the green machine's trunk. Turns out when you do that for a week your clothes end up smelling like exhaust fumes. He let me borrow a shirt to sleep in, but he is the one person I've met who actually physically dwarves me. I got sick of waking up all tangled and threw it on the floor at some point during the night. I usually wake up before him - he sleeps, I've never been a sleeper - so I was making coffee and walking around in my (dirty) underwear, thinking I had a good hour before he got up, right until the moment I heard him clear his throat from across the room.
Mortification promptly ensued on both our parts. I think it took an hour for us to be able to be in the same room. We still hadn't worked our way up to looking each other in the eye when he said something like, "You should just leave some clothes here." What the hell, right? I already had a toothbrush there with my name on it - no, really, it has my name written on it in Sharpie. It seemed like a good idea when I was wasted. Keith informed me the following morning that I had done so well lecturing him rather passionately on things he wasn't allowed to do with my toothbrush.
When I dropped my stuff off with him tonight - he was still at work - I gave him a similar lecture regarding things he is not allowed to do with my clothes. When I was done, he looked at me and said, "What am I allowed to do with your clothes? That might be easier to remember." I told him he could do my laundry and he pointed out that would require touching my underwear.
I still don't know what the right response to that was. This whole thing is weird.
The question wasn't out of the blue. I'd been taking stuff with me, and I thought it would be easier to just leave it in the green machine's trunk. Turns out when you do that for a week your clothes end up smelling like exhaust fumes. He let me borrow a shirt to sleep in, but he is the one person I've met who actually physically dwarves me. I got sick of waking up all tangled and threw it on the floor at some point during the night. I usually wake up before him - he sleeps, I've never been a sleeper - so I was making coffee and walking around in my (dirty) underwear, thinking I had a good hour before he got up, right until the moment I heard him clear his throat from across the room.
Mortification promptly ensued on both our parts. I think it took an hour for us to be able to be in the same room. We still hadn't worked our way up to looking each other in the eye when he said something like, "You should just leave some clothes here." What the hell, right? I already had a toothbrush there with my name on it - no, really, it has my name written on it in Sharpie. It seemed like a good idea when I was wasted. Keith informed me the following morning that I had done so well lecturing him rather passionately on things he wasn't allowed to do with my toothbrush.
When I dropped my stuff off with him tonight - he was still at work - I gave him a similar lecture regarding things he is not allowed to do with my clothes. When I was done, he looked at me and said, "What am I allowed to do with your clothes? That might be easier to remember." I told him he could do my laundry and he pointed out that would require touching my underwear.
I still don't know what the right response to that was. This whole thing is weird.
