The Roomie Series Part VII

The topic for this week is Manigeh’s cuisine.

I know. I know. You want to know about the showering situation. Well, I suppose I can spare a moment to tell you that she did, in fact, shower a few days ago. I can’t be certain what kind of soap or shampoo was used, but I can confirm that Manigeh’s body has been cleansed. As far as I know, the shower was running for at least ten minutes, which, in my opinion, is a decent length of time to cleanse oneself. I feel safe sitting on the furniture now.

Back to the kitchen. I have not cooked one meal since Manigeh moved in. At first, I didn’t feel comfortable using common areas (think back to the Oreos), but now the kitchen smells so much that I can’t stand in there long enough to stir a pot. Jon and I call the smell “punge”. I don’t know exactly what she makes but it smells the same EVERYDAY. It just lingers for hours. I started spraying air-freshener but I don’t think she knows why I’m doing it. You can imagine how expensive it’s becoming to eat out all the time; I’m going broke. Pizza is becoming a popular option, as is Swiss Chalet and Thai Bamboo (located east of Keele and Steeles – try the pad thai and coconut sticky rice). If I eat at home, I eat in my room with the door closed so the smell can’t seep into my food, making it taste like the bathrooms at Canada’s Wonderland. The punge looms like fog.

I’m moving out in two weeks so there’s not much left to bear. For the next week, I plan to talk to her a lot in order to give you guys more material. Mind you, I’m moving in with my mom for the summer and that alone is a book’s worth of hilarity. Me and Shar, together again. But first things first. I have to find a way to get my pillows and blankets back. Should I just take them and run or should I give her notice? I know what the “right” answer is, but I’m not sure I can bring myself to knock on her door and breaking the news. What if she doesn’t understand? Should I just cut my losses and leave them with her? Well I can’t leave my pillowcases; they match with my bed spread. Decisions, decisions. Life is hard, my friends.

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