Right. I’ve lost it.

Roommate. It’s beyond a mild annoyance maybe-she-can’t-help-it thing. It’s half past midnight. I’ve been trying to get to sleep for an hour. I was having trouble because the nauseous feeling I had this morning came back so I was just lying there trying to push the sea-sick type feeling out of my thoughts. When that failed, I got up, put my dressing gown on, my slip ons (don’t like going around barefoot outside of my room) and went into the kitchen to make hot chocolate and watch some tv in the hopes of it making me sleepy.

All was silent. As well as hot chocolate, I filled my pink hot water bottle so I could cuddle it on the couch. After a while, felt sleepy, went back to bed, turned the lights off. 15 mins later, roommate comes out of her room. Lets her bedroom door swing back behind her, walks to the kitchen, lets that door swing back behind her as usual. I sat up in bed, in the dark, and shouted, not in a horrible way like I usually do, but in an exasperated, damsel-in-distress way, “For fuck’s sake. Don’t slam the door.”

Then I heard her, in clear defiance of my request, start to SING. And she sang as if to ignore me. So I  picked up my shoe and kept hitting it off my door while she slammed the kitchen at least 3 more times. And then… THEN… she started to cook. At this hour.

So I’m up, wide awake, feeling nauseous, wishing I had a  bazooka so I could go in there and just ASK her to make my muthafucking night, and slam the door again.

…

I’m a woman on the edge.