The Roommate

Brody has been living with me since March. When he moved in, it was only going to be until July. It's almost Christmas.
The "odd couple" relationship has had it's ups and downs. Brody is 27. He can go out until 2:30 and get to work by 9am. I cannot. It would be fine if our bedrooms were at opposite ends of the apartment. They are not. So I hear him rattling the door, talking on his phone, tossing his boots on the floor. Sometimes I roll over and fall back to sleep. Sometimes I lie in bed and slowly burn. And sometimes I get up, hair wild, kimono flying and screech at him and whatever friends he has brought home for a sleep over.
I know what you're thinking... Brody, the salope. (fr) No, honestly, he and his friends are like puppies: three to the bed. Snoring, passed out, quiet...finally.
But overall, the experience has been awesome. And it has made our relationship stronger. Now if he'd only clean up his room!

Paris again...

So Brody and I went to Paris for Christmas. We were joined by Zack...a good, longtime friend of Brody's (and mine.) Had the best time ever...dancing to all hours at Le Cud.
Meeting cute boys...enjoying the city. In the cab back to the airport, Brody and I were seriously depressed. I love Paris. I want to move there.
Time to make a plan.