Psycho Roomie, Part VI

Apparently it's been, like, a week since I blogged my about old psycho roommate from college. A few of you have commented on previous posts that you can't wait for more - I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. I didn't realize it would actually take so many posts to write about, but clearly, she was a psychotic dipshit and gave me some good writing material. Oh, and this is testing my memory of Roman Numerals. Seriously.

Moving on.

I did forget to mention in my last Psycho Suzi blog about the Great Mouse Disaster of 2002, that she had asked me not to mention it to either her parents or mine. Whatever. I so totally did. Not long after the Great Mouse Disaster, I got to a point with Suzi that I almost pulled a Betty. Meaning, I nearly beat her ass to a pulp. I've written in the past about how Suzi was adamant that I keep my oscillating fan off when I'm not in my room, turning off my computer when not in use, yadda yadda yadda. I think this happened when the September PG&E bill showed up. On this particular day, I remember having been on the phone with a friend. Possibly the previous roommate (i.e. the good one). I was slowly gathering my things as I was planning on heading to campus. I wanted to hit up the Ag computer lab to work on something before heading off to a club meeting. As I'm doing this, Suzi shows up at my bedroom doorway. My door was open, but she never once crossed the threshold. But she had her "pissy" face on and was obviously in a blaming mood. From what I recall, this is how the basic conversation went down:

Me: What's up, Suzi?

Suzi: (please imagine a very pissy face) Um, yeah, the PG&E bill came today. And, um, yeah, it's high.

Me: How high is "high"?

Suzi: Um, it's $106.00.

Me: Wow, that is high. Well . . . okay, maybe we shouldn't run the air conditioner that much? That costs a lot of money to run.

Suzi: (obviously offended I would insinuate such a thing) We don't run it that much. But your fan runs all the time. (we don't run it that much?? The damn thing is on nearly 24 hours a day!)

(We've been through this issue God knows how many times. Yet I fall into the same old trap.)

Me: Fans run mere pennies a day. Air conditioning units cost a lot more.

Suzi: (child-like in her defensiveness) Nah-uh. Those fans take up a lot more energy than the air conditioner! I've lived in this apartment 2 years, and I've never had a bill this high. I think I've had as high as maybe $85.

(I'm starting to get seriously pissed off that she's blaming this whole thing on ME. What's more insulting is that she's WRONG.)

Me: (getting loud and pissed) Okay, then please explain to me how I lived in an energy inefficient apartment and never had a bill over $80, Suzi? I'll tell you how. By using fans. We had three going non-stop over summer to cut down our air conditioning costs. (my first apartment had only wall units, those are definitely not very efficient.)

Suzi: A/C units don't use that much energy. (She's getting very aggressive about this and is getting in my face, yet still hasn't crossed the threshold into my room. She points at my fan and --) But that fan of yours is the problem!

(I had reached my breaking point the first time she said that. I was so mad I was starting to shake. I wanted to hit her, take her down.)

Me: (now I'm getting in her face) FINE SUZI! I HAVE TO GO!

I was quite literally thisclose to her face. As soon as I screamed in her face, I spun around turned off my fan, grabbed my bag and shoved past her. I walked so fast out of the apartment I may have left skid marks and a could of dust. I actually talked to myself (and shed a few angry tears) while walking to campus that evening, not caring if I looked completely insane to others. I was so pissed, I was shaking. If I hadn't run out of there and kept fighting with her, I would have hit her. How could she have the balls to blame an entire bill on me?

I tried calling my parents, but they weren't home. I left a message for them to call me back. I couldn't use the Ag computer lab like I'd wanted to as there was a class in there. I'd apparently left even earlier than I thought, due to the fight. But I found a friend, Miss J, sitting in the classroom where our club meeting would eventually be. So I plopped down and vented to her for at least an hour. Miss J turned out to be a huge asset to me during my time with Suzi. She let me vent constantly. I don't know how she still talks to me. My parents attempted to call back during my club meeting . . . it's always embarrassing when your phone rings in a classroom. Even if you're not technically in class.

I called my parents back as I walked back home. I told them everything. Luckily, I had calmed down a bit, but when I told my parents how mad I had been - shaking, crying, etc. - they knew. They knew how bad it had just gotten. I told them about the Great Mouse Disaster. How she blamed me and my one 12" oscillating fan for such a huge energy bill. I'm pretty sure there was a few other small things, as well, but I can't recall. My dad wrote stuff down and said he'd talk to Suzi's parents the next day.

Trust me when I say, at 22, I hated having my parents fight the fight for me. But I realized early on, that that is exactly what Suzi did. Her parents were so involved in her life it wasn't even funny. She talked to them multiple times a day. I'm not saying talking to your parents on a regular basis is a bad thing. If I'm not talking to my mom, I'm texting her. Or we're facebooking. My parents may always be in my life, but they don't run my life. My parents didn't mind stepping in, as they new three against one was a very unfair fight. So I made it three on three. Seemed only fair.

The next day dawned. I went to class, my stomach in knots. The stress of what was to come was killing me. I knew my dad was going to talk to Suzi's dad today. And I knew that Suzi's dad would then talk to Suzi. And Suzi would eventually come talk to me. She was like a Great White and I was the poor helpless Seal. God help me. After Zoology, Miss J and I were starving, and she knew I didn't want to go home yet. We decided to go out for lunch, and decided on Chevy's downtown. We enjoyed a nice lunch, and my stomach didn't start churning again until we went our separate ways and I had to walk the walk back home. My feet felt like lead, my heart pounded. My mind raced as to how this fight would go. I think I stood at the bottom of our stairs for a good 15 minutes before I finally started up. One painful step at a time.I opened the front door to see Suzi sitting on the couch, on the phone. I locked the door behind me (sealing my fate), and headed straight for my room to set my stuff down. I came back to the front of the apartment by the living room because that's where my bathroom was. I wouldn't have there if I hadn't had to . . . well, pee. I sit down and I hear Suzi say, "Hold on, I have to go outside. . . . She's in the house, Mom." I started laughing. She couldn't even be on the phone with me in the house. Sad. I went back to my room and pulled my books and started studying.

Anywhere from 15 to 30 minutes later, I get a knock at my bedroom door. I opened it and she says, (with pissy face on), "Um, yeah, we need to talk." I met her in the living room and there we hashed it out. She was pissed at me for telling the my parents about the Great Mouse Disaster, who then told Suzi's parents. I argued simply this: my name is on the lease, same as hers; the apartment manager doesn't care who is at fault if there's damage done to the apartment. I am just as liable for the damage, according to him, as she is. Not to mention my fear that the neighbors could smell the 100 mice that were now living with us. She then mentioned that damn PG&E bill again. I argued my point again: not only does my fan not cost that much to run, but she must also remember that Betty was moving out during part of that time and the door was open much of the day. (Not that I was blaming Betty, because when you move, the door stays open as a convenience.) Plus, Suzi has a habit of turning the thermostat down to (a record!) 55 degrees. I argued that no way in Hell should the thermostat ever be set lower than 68. Not only that, but she'll turn it on without telling me, and I've opened windows. (And God forbid should she actually check to see if windows are open prior to turning on the air conditioner.)

Her last item threw me for a loop, however. She got mad at me that I "missed our appointment to clean the apartment." (uh, I'm sorry, what "appointment"?) She claimed that (earlier in the week) had set a specific time to clean the apartment. I really didn't recall the "specific time" part. I countered with: "I know we agreed to clean house this afternoon, but I don't remember setting a time for it. Miss J and I decided to go have lunch after Zoo. Besides you don't have to wait for me to clean, you can start without me." She shrugged but kept her pissy face on. Then she decided to tell me about her brilliant idea. Are you ready?

She made a "sign off" sheet on Excel, so we could initial what we did for house cleaning, so the other person didn't come behind them and accidentally do it again. She had listed everything possible to clean, including wiping down the washer and dryer. No shit. And there was a sign off column for each week of the month. I wanted to rip it out of her hands and shred it. I wanted to give her a thousand paper cuts with it. Being that I didn't want a fight, I agreed that it was a good idea.

I'll give you three guesses who did all the cleaning for a year.