Why We Need a Second Bathroom at 46 Vesper

I guess I was a morning person when I worked at the coffeeshop. But in order to be ready to greet those super early customers I usually had to be awake for over an hour and at least two cups to be ready. Ever since my bowling job started, however, my schedule is completely flipped around, and I regularly stay up until two, two-thirty in the morning, which means I'll sleep until ten or so, then hit snooze. My mom told me a couple of months ago, which I had completely forgotten, that in high school, she used to wake me up in the morning, and if she didn't use the sweetest most ridiculously buttery voice I'd like, snap at her and grumble and not get up (this was b.c.- before coffee.)






Anyhow. I'm on the opposite schedule of my two lovely roommates, who both have relatively normal 9-5ish jobs. Which means if they're talking in the morning, putting dishes in the sink, RUNNING THE BLENDER, there is a chance I'll wake up. I only say the blender part because I woke up to a blender running at like, 8 a.m. once, got really mad since I'd never dream of running the blender at 2 a.m. when I got home, then got up out of bed to tell Rebecca that she was completely out of her mind for blending things at that hour, only to find out that she'd been doing it like every day and this day in particular I woke up because I happened to forget to put my fan on.)



So... there's this new guy. We met at the bowling alley. If you're a chick and you're lookin' for love, the bowling alley is a dude magnet. It's been a lot of fun, hanging out with this new guy, and when I asked him how he felt about me posting this story, he got really excited and wanted to pick a nickname. Sorry, New Guy, that's not how it works. Can't pick your own nickname. This was a refreshing change from, "Amanda. Under no circumstance are you ever allowed to ever post anything about me." The other night he spent the night, which yeah, very scandalous. He had to be at work at 9. I can't form sentences before 10. What happened next was more activity than I've experienced in the house, possibly ever.


Normally, Angela happens to be in the bathroom getting ready when New Guy wakes up, around 8:15. Not knowing she was in there, since the door was clearly open, New Guy gets up, not wearing pants, and says, "Oh, you're in the in between stages of getting ready for your day, huh?" Angela is luckily a lot more coherent in the morning, so she responds with a smile and says she'll be done in a second. Then Cole, Angela's boyfriend, hears this, pipes in from her room and says, "Wait, can I just brush my teeth first?" New Guy responds, "Cole, don't worry about it, man! Wanna just get in the shower with me? We can take a shower together!" They've met twice. I hear all of this commotion, and decide that I need to be up because although New Guy doesn't need me to hold his hand, but I knew it was the polite and respectful thing to do, although I'm NOT HAPPY about it. Then, I don't know what to do with myself, because I'll get in real trouble if I try to cut in line for the bathroom, so I start making coffee for New Guy. He takes it black.

With Rebecca's summer schedule, she usually nearly out the door by the time Angela woke up. Since school has started, Angela's assumption that Rebecca had already left was false. So now Angela, Cole, New Guy are in line for the bathroom, and Rebecca gets up and announces, "I have to get in there!" Neither Rebecca nor myself are wearing pants. She grumbles something about being awake but not getting out of bed, and something about how this is a fucking circus. She's not wrong, either. Cole and New Guy are brushing their teeth in the hall, New Guy is trying to talk to Cole, Cole is trying to figure out where to spit.



I've failed at making the first batch of coffee in the percolator. If you remember, we have 39 coffeemakers, and one of the percolators doesn't always work- the water boils but just leaks out the seal. I tried to use an oven mitt to tighten it, hoping not to start over on this stupid cup of coffee, and I end up spilling it all over the counter. I have a difficult time figuring out how do I make my coffee if I haven't had my coffee. It's like the chicken and the egg.



So, Rebecca cuts New Guy in line for the bathroom, since he's taking an entire shower, and it's her prerogative since she actually lives here. While he's waiting for both the shower and the coffee, he sits on my front porch and smokes a cigarette. Cigarettes are not a dealbreaker for me, since Mandy Wheeler smokes like a chimney and I'm addicted to her second hand smoke. Cole is sitting in the chair next to the window, and if you're sitting on the porch, you're pretty much at eye level. New Guy taps on the window and motions to put it up so they can continue talking about whatever they were talking about. New Guy is obviously a morning person. My landlord happens to walk by and see New Guy smoking on the porch and says, "Hey listen, not to be an ass hole, but, I really don't want you to be smoking on my property. I'm against smoking 150%." Anytime anyone prefaces a statement with, "not to be an asshole/dick/fucking bitch," it's really just a way to acknowledge the fact that you're aware that whatever is coming next is going to be offensive, and you don't care. I go back to bed and everyone leaves.




Angela says that it's a flashback to her childhood, growing up one of nine children, and that it's one of her worst nightmares. Then later, she tells her boyfriend, and he responds, "REALLY? I thought it was fun!!"