The Island

The following day, I received an email at work from my roommate Erin. In it she relayed that that evening, if I was going to be around, they would like to hold a “house meeting.” In the nearly two months that I had lived in the house on S Street, we had never had a house meeting, so I asked her what it would be in regards to. I received no reply.

Now, sometimes my internal dialogue can be a little paranoid. But, this “house meeting” didn’t sound like a particularly good thing to me. By this time the “new roommate honeymoon” was over. No longer was I hanging out with my roommates who I actually began to think were a bit cliquey. I had started to become annoyed with Jer’s constant drinking and fits over whatever inane video game he was playing, the fact that one of Erin’s friends had been a total jerk to me and she hadn’t said anything to him, and Summer’s stupid cat who was always trying to get into my room and was certainly contributing to some serious allergies. And, I’m sure there were things about me that they felt similarly about. I only really ever spoke to two of them and usually that was for functional purposes.

So, I had a sneaking suspicion that they wanted me out. Soon after I had convinced myself that they had baked a cake to congratulate me on graduation. I then recognized how completely deluded that notion was and returned to the thoughts about my expulsion.

So, I sat down on the couch, in my gym clothes, at 9 p.m. They all sat so I was the focal point. Even if you know what is coming, you are never really prepared to be kicked out. And honestly, I had never been kicked out of anything before. For about ten minutes I was furious, but I remained calm and they even thanked me for taking it so well. After those ten minutes past, I was really relieved. Sure the house was conveniently located and the rent was really cheap, but it wasn’t a particularly healthy living environment to be on barely-speaking terms with your roommates.

I was shaken by the fact that I had to find a new place to live and I certainly wanted to do it quickly so I could get out. But, there was only a week left in May and it was going to be tough. I pictured myself as a homeless young urban professional, my Ann Taylor work clothes hanging from my body in rags as I walked the streets of Washington, DC with my queen size bed and box spring strapped to my back and both hands holding Crate & Barrel boxes filled with dishes.

Then I crafted more sinister fantasies about finding a cool place to live really quickly and sticking the heathens (to quote one of my friend’s moms) with a month’s worth of my rent.
Within a week, I had been offered two places to live. One that was pretty far out and had not air conditioning and a really small room. Another that was on the Mt. Pleasant/Columbia Heights border which had CAC (as the housing ad lingo is apt to say), an awesomely large room, and roommates that seemed really cool. The place was only for the summer, but on June 2nd I moved in and was rid of the house on S Street.

I was psyched that my plan to stick them with the rent would actually come to life. But, I later learned that one of Summer’s good friends moved into the house and I suspect that that was part of the plan in getting me out all along.

But, in the end, I still got kicked off the island. I just feel fortunate that the swim wasn’t far and the new accommodations (and housemates) have proven to be far superior.