Bewilderment, A Mattress, and a Steak.

Many of you out there have had quirky roommates. Some of you would call them "weird" or "a little strange" or just plain "crazy." Maybe they like to occasionally swipe a bit of your peanut butter now and then.

But all of these terms would not be appropriate words for my current selection of A-list housing companions. Here's a sampling of the bizarre interactions I have witnessed and/or been subjected to over the past few months. Such as:

The Mythical Roommate:

This roommate defies all definition or explanation, because he doesn't really live there. Some say it's because he lives with his girlfriend 99% of the time. I say the dog ate him. We're sending out a search party. And then I'm annexing his room.

The Non-Mythical Roommates:

These roommates certainly DO exist. They are very real indeed. They sleep in my house, they eat in my house. Once I even walked in on two of them sleeping, or not sleeping, on a mattress in my basement while going to get my laundry. The funny thing is, they don't actually pay rent here and I'm not sure what their names are, other than "The guy I didn't recognize who half-heartedly nodded at me once while I walked into the kitchen for a glass of milk." But I think they somehow know my other roommates, which must make them my roommates by default, according to my lease.

The "Guys Just Wanna Have Fun" roommate: 

"Don't you wish you could just be in college again and get hammered every day and do nothin'?" is this guy's motto. Imagine my surprise when I overheard him say this, because I assumed that's what he already did. Dreams do come true after all.

The Nonverbal Roommate:

This roommate doesn't talk. When feeling especially friendly, Nonverbal Roommate has been known to let out a grunt or two. He has a strict rule about speaking or grunting with friends and visitors. The number of times he acknowledges someone is inversely proportional to the number of times they have come over. So a frequent visitor, such as my boyfriend, actually attains a negative score of having spoken to Nonverbal Roommate. 

One night, boyfriend and I are about to cook a steak inside on a cold, blustery, below-freezing wintry eve in February. Nonverbal Roommate comes in and says in all sincerity, "We got propane for the grill if you want to cook that outside." 

Strangely enough, I'm not sure whether my bewilderment was more because he talked or because he suggested grilling a steak and freezing it at the same time.