Punchline/Collette Charles
The kitchen was a mess. Yes, a huge portion of it was mine, but since I cleaned the entire apartment last friday, I just didn't feel much shame for a few dirty pots and pans. And besides, everyone else who lives with me is sloppy, too, moreso even. And I planned to clean it just as soon as my homework situation was under control.
So with all these thoughts in my overwhelmed mind, I walked into the wreck-of-a-kitchen, set on a drinking a glass of orange juice, not expecting to be ambushed. Boy, was I wrong. Melissa, one of my roommates, has developed a recent fondness for the "F-word", and she found now to be the time to use it.
"Collette! Are you ever going to get around to cleaning your f***ing dishes? This kitchen is disgusting!"
This was yelled in full Melissa volume, which to say the least, is earsplitting. Hands on hips, high ponytail shaking in anger, she points her finger at me, (no, not the middle one). "This mess has been here for two days now. Don't you think it's about time you gave the rest of us some kitchen room?"
With this I snapped. My day had been hard, classes taxing, my workout at the gym tiring, and on top of that, I'd gained four pounds. I was homesick, emotional, and fat. This was not the time to mess with me. I let her have it. Yelling, waving my hands around, the whole deal. The surprise on her face would have made me laugh, had I not been screaming at the top of my lungs already. I told her she could clean it for all I cared, that I was going to mess up the whole house, and I didn't really care. With this, I picked up a paper off the counter, ripped it up, and scattered the pieces all over the house. By this time, the entire apartment and neighbors next door are watching me, mouths hanging open in disbelief. My normally calm dispostion had been forgotten, destroyed. And it felt so good.
Melissa and I stared at each other, and suddenly both started crying. And laughing. As I walked toward her for a hug, she covered her face with her hands and ducked. "I thought you were going to hit me." She choked out, as we held each other, somehow feeling that everything was ok.
So with all these thoughts in my overwhelmed mind, I walked into the wreck-of-a-kitchen, set on a drinking a glass of orange juice, not expecting to be ambushed. Boy, was I wrong. Melissa, one of my roommates, has developed a recent fondness for the "F-word", and she found now to be the time to use it.
"Collette! Are you ever going to get around to cleaning your f***ing dishes? This kitchen is disgusting!"
This was yelled in full Melissa volume, which to say the least, is earsplitting. Hands on hips, high ponytail shaking in anger, she points her finger at me, (no, not the middle one). "This mess has been here for two days now. Don't you think it's about time you gave the rest of us some kitchen room?"
With this I snapped. My day had been hard, classes taxing, my workout at the gym tiring, and on top of that, I'd gained four pounds. I was homesick, emotional, and fat. This was not the time to mess with me. I let her have it. Yelling, waving my hands around, the whole deal. The surprise on her face would have made me laugh, had I not been screaming at the top of my lungs already. I told her she could clean it for all I cared, that I was going to mess up the whole house, and I didn't really care. With this, I picked up a paper off the counter, ripped it up, and scattered the pieces all over the house. By this time, the entire apartment and neighbors next door are watching me, mouths hanging open in disbelief. My normally calm dispostion had been forgotten, destroyed. And it felt so good.
Melissa and I stared at each other, and suddenly both started crying. And laughing. As I walked toward her for a hug, she covered her face with her hands and ducked. "I thought you were going to hit me." She choked out, as we held each other, somehow feeling that everything was ok.
posted by Anonymous | 11:06 AM
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