This blog post is posted close to home — figuratively and somewhat literally — but left intentionally vague. I refer to the events of my home last night.

I got home from Cous Cous (great Mediterranean place around NW 59th & May) and found one of my roommates upset, packing up his things and leaving.

Apparently his girlfriend (whom he shares a room with and is actually on the lease) of more than a year basically talked down to him and gave him the cold shoulder until he left, refusing to speak to him.

Personally, I was raised to believe you should attempt to communicate your feelings when in a relationship, not including novel-length text messages. He is 25 and she is 18. Neither have jobs or any motivation. Thankfully, their parents are great about paying (their share of the) rent.

Now, with him gone, being outnumbered four females to singular male (moi), Ten Pen residence has already descended into cat house status. The end is near for me, I have yet to develop a taste for Franzia and discussing the patriarchy.