…I came home from an evening at Kevin’s to find that my apartment had been robbed.
It was not a pleasant experience, but the cats were okay and they didn’t get the computer. It did mean that I moved in with Kevin in one day instead of a week or two, as had been the plan.
My memory of the day, actually, is not of “Oh god, burglary!” but of the kindness of my friends. My buddy Otter called me up and said “Do I need to come over?” and I think I said “…I don’t KNOW!” To which she said “Right, getting in the car now.” She trucked a jeepload of stuff to Kevin’s house and fed me while I was still dithering about police reports. My friends Mike & Amy & Wes showed up that night and they fit EVERYTHING into Wes’s truck and a couple of cars and drove the whole thing to Pittsboro. While geography means that I don’t see those guys very often any more, I will never forget that.
And of course, the nice police officer who, when a moderately hysterical woman grabbed him and yelled “WHAT KIND OF SICKO STEALS A PERSON’S SEX TOYS!?” said “Oh god, lady, I don’t know!” and did not charge me with assaulting a police officer’s lapels.
In four years, Kevin and I have largely transformed his house, as much as one can with flooring and paint and ruthless decluttering and random art. He has been the best roommate ever and he doesn’t seem to mind if I wake up one morning and decide to paint the hallways turquoise. The walls are filling up with souvenirs of our travels together—Talaveras crosses and art from friends and interesting skulls acquired at random locations. I turned him on to Dr. Bronner’s soap. He taught me how to organize an inbox. We negotiated laundry-related divisions of labor. I took over all the yard work and put in enormous flower beds and slightly less enormous vegetable beds. He gave away the lawn mower and learned to cook beets. I got his beagle. He got my Little Orange Cat.
It’s been a lovely four years. I hope we have forty more.