by Terry 33 Replies latest jw experiences
Haha! I can totally relate to that Terry! I am just like Richard... appear out of nowhere, I scream!
We were visiting friends in Nevada, and the 15 year old was messing around hiding in the closet... I knew where she was, and when I opened the door, I still screamed! haha!
I just recently moved into a roommate situation after being on my own with just my dog for the past two years. My roommate is actually someone I roomed with several years ago so know her quirks and she knows mine. Still, it's a change when you're older and been alone for awhile. Before this my roomies were my son and two of his friends, exJW twins who were forsaken by their JW parents and family. They just called me 'mom'. As for temp settings...ahem...I like it cool with the window cracked in the winter. My roommate likes the heat on.
You sound like a great roommate, Terry!
Terry, thanks for entertaining update. You do look great, in a sexy, silver, over 60 kind of way!
Great story and well told - I really enjoyed that.
Nice picture.
Look like the two most interesting men in the coffee shop for sure!
Very entertaining! Perhaps they will give you some new writing material for a book!
LIVING WITH 4 OTHER GUYS (Chapter 2)
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At last, Mystery Man Marc completed his move yesterday evening. I had arrived back at the pad and settled in to my TV ritual with headphones, but I heard tell-tale banging around in the direction of the previously vacant room. It was either gigantic robot termites or Marc.
I had a decision to make: jump in and offer to help him carry the heavy stuff, or wait until it sounded completely done AND THEN show up to offer help. I'll leave you to guess which choice I made :smile:
When the clamor trailed off into silence, I ramped up my hospitality mode. I was like an eager puppy at chow time as I barged into Marc's room. My smile was a mile wide and so were my eyes. I must have resembled a Yeti on an overdose of cocaine!
"You must be Marc," I was blurting enthusiastically, and it was to be followed by "I'm Terry from down the hall. You need any help moving?"
That's what I intended to say. However. . .
What I didn't realize was this. Marc's girlfriend (he's just 20-somthing) had helped him move and was now. . . um . . . helping him relax!
So, here comes me-- the silver-haired Yeti--all 6' 4''--wildly gesticulating greetings, like a YouTube prank or episode of Scare Tactics! I stopped in mid-sentence when I looked down and recognized the situation.
Here is how it sounded:
"Hi, you must be--OH SHIT--I'm sorry! I mean, I'm Terry and OH SHIT."
I vanished from sight, ducking into the hall and making apologies as I beat a hasty retreat back to my room.
"Sorry, I just wanted to welcome you to the house and offer----oh never mind!"
What the two of them thought is beyond my reckoning. I never heard another sound. Not even a peep all night. I was going to wait for her to leave and then creep back down to the room and apologize. That didn't come to pass.
Whomever "they" are. . . "they" say, you should always make a memorable FIRST IMPRESSION. I think "they" whomever "they" are. . . are very proud of my efforts right now! Although I'm not so sure it is exactly the helpful neighbor impression I had intended.
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Later, I got up in the middle of the night to fetch some ice water from the refrigerator. As soon as I opened the door to look for a pitcher or bottle, the smell of something gone bad just about knocked me over. When I say "something gone bad" I mean, worse than Miley Cyrus after leaving Hannah Montana!
Wow, Mother of Mercy--is this the end of Rico?" *
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I remembered something Sana the landlord had said to me the first day I moved in.
(Cue the harp music . . . )
"You guys will have to work out sharing the refrigerator space. Richard gets a bit carried away. He's just about filled the whole thing up with vegetables. I don't know why, but he did."
(Fade memory thought balloon.)
This is when I did my Jerry Seinfeld impression, but instead of pulling my lips tight and uttering the foul name of, "NEWMAN!"
I substituted, "RICHARD!"
Certainly I'd never climb the stairs to Richard's room and wake him up at 2:30 a.m. to tell him to remove the rancid clump of rotting veggies from his weird collection. But, I did think to myself, "He goes to the gym at 5:00 a.m."
If I was still awake, I could catch him and ask him to follow me to the kitchen. I'd open the door and ask innocently, "Can you help me identify who or what has been murdered and stashed in the fridge? Hmmmm?"
We'd share a chuckle or two and he'd confess shyly that it might be his two-month-old cauliflower gone to its reward which was stenching up the kitchen and contributing to Global Warming.
This never came to pass.
Around 6:00 a.m. I woke up after a good eight hours sleep and I wobbled to the bathroom in the hall in my unsteady-just-woke-up fog of semi-consciousness.
I knew nobody was in the bathroom because the light was off. (You can see the thin glow under the door when it is on.) So, I opened the door, tromped inside, and shut it behind me as I flipped on the light switch.
Now if this were a piece of comedy fiction I was writing, you'd expect--unlikely as not--poor Richard would be sitting on the toilet in the dark on his cell phone and I would have frightened him again. But this isn't comedy fiction--it is real life.
Those kinds of things don't happen in real life.
Instead, here is what happened.
I flicked on the light and found Richard SOUND ASLEEP on the toilet, with his cell phone still in his hand, and some kind of wrist-alarm going off repeatedly, "ding-ta-ding-ta-ding-ta-ding-ta-ding. . . ."
I'm the one who had the startled fright!
"HOLY SHIT--RICHARD?"
Now at this point and this point only, Richard quickly woke up and sat up straight on the toilet, crying out a steady "Yah-aaah-Ahhh-AHHHHHHH!"
I DO NOT LIE.
Not kidding. Nope.
"Did you fall asleep on the commode?"
"Uh-oh-man--I don't know. What's going on. What time is it?"
"It's six o'clock in the morning, Richard. How long have you been in here?"
He kept blinking like a newborn kitten and smacking his lips and making faces like a stroke victim.
"An hour, I guess."
I then came to my senses too. I excused myself from watching him sit on the toilet and scooted back to my room. For some strange reason, I no longer had to pee! How that happens, I just don't know.
But--I'd say Richard got his revenge for the previous frights I'd given him. Except--maybe not. Perhaps a proper accounting would yield a score of
SCARED SHITLESS:
Richard: 4
SCARED PEELESS:
Terry 1
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I heard Richard flush and scramble out the front door shortly after all that nonsense.
There were no other sounds in the house.
Mystery Boy Marc and his. . . um. . . helper, made no sound from the end of the hall.
Just another day in paradise!
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