Oh, I forgot to mention...

My roommate, who was causing me all sorts of stress because we never talked, finally got fed up, "gave" me the room, and took an empty single down the hall just before Valentine's Day. I have reason to believe that our lack of communication was the main reason she left, although I also suspect that her upbringing in an upper-middle-class family with three brothers (and therefore no one to share with) made her especially unable to share a room with someone who was so radically different. I'm not sure she could have shared a room with her twin without getting bitchy.

I walked into the room one afternoon and she was packing. She said we needed to talk, I sat down, she gave me one short rant about feeling disrespected and my boyfriend having driven her out of the room (he was here once every two weeks, on average, while hers was around once a week at least) and went back to packing furiously. I didn't even bother arguing, because she had the same look on her face that my little sister gets sometimes - the "I dare you to tell me I'm wrong so I can bite your head off" look. It wasn't worth bitching her out if she was leaving and so I just fed her some BS line about wishing we could have worked out our differences and went mildly back to my corner.

Since then we've exchanged two greetings and one half-argument. The time before last time I saw her, we were in line together at the food court and she purposely ignored everything in my general direction. I was almost amused by it. This weekend, she came to the door and pounded on it, and before I had the sense to pretend I was away, I opened it and came face to face with a Puffed Up Angry Bitch. The conversation went something like this: (translations for those who weren't there to see facial expressions, although mine was mostly deadpan/surprise)
"I want my marker back." (NOW. OR I WILL WHINE AT YOU.) *glareglareglare*
*wtf?* "I don't have it. And he (indicating my boyfriend, who she was glaring at around the half-open door) has been here with me all day. (BACK OFF AND GO WHINE TO SOMEONE ELSE.)
"O RLY? Blahblahblah I GAVE you this room (really? You didn't even ask if I wanted it...), you fuck with my whiteboard (um... right. 'Cause I care that much.) and you need to grow up!" (I WILL CRY. I AM NOT ABLE TO DEAL WITH THIS.)
"Well, look. We don't know where your marker is. I haven't done anything to you and I'm not going to." (I DON'T CARE, GO AWAY.)
*stomps off* "Fuck you. Fuck you both." (ANGST! BITTER ANGST!)
"Thank you." (BEEN THERE, HEARD THAT, DON'T THINK IT'S MATURE OR NECESSARY.)

The boy found her whiteboard marker under the water fountain a few feet down the hall from her door - it had fallen off and probably been kicked there accidentally. Shit happens, hon. He put it back sans comment. I would have gladly handed her all four of my extra markers if it would have made her stop hating us and disappear, but she has her mind set and arguing with a pissed-off teenager is like arguing with some Christians: They never really listen to your side as long as they can hear theirs.

The erasing of her whiteboard was not my fault any of the three or four times it happened. The boy did it once or twice and I don't really care, if she has problems with him she can approach him. I'm not his keeper nor his mother, and he can take care of himself. Oddly enough, since one of those erasings was mid-week when the boy wasn't here, I suspect she has problems with more people than just us.

And in other news, I'm halfway to 40 today (March 6). (Thank you, classmate, for pointing this out) It's time for my quarter-life crisis now... :P