If I were staying even with my parents, I would not want them to arrive home after a long day at work, walk into their room and find a discarded pair of pajama bottoms in their floor. Nor would I want them to find a glass of juice on their nightstand. But that's what I found when I got home bleary eyed and emotionally and physically exhausted and in a terrible mood. I'm pretty sure she took a nap in here. And I'm pretty sure the reason she denied being in the bed was she was ON the bed and perhaps not under the sheets. But when I asked her why she had been in my room at all, she said she didn't remember and that she couldn't help me. I pressed her, completely unsatisfied with that answer. Nothing of hers is in my room. She said maybe she was looking for something but she didn't remember what. I asked why she decided to take off her pants and why she needed a drink while she looked for something in my room, she said 'I don't remember doing that. Sorry can't help you.' I went off.
I told her I didn't appreciate that she got to be offended by my asking what she was doing in my bedroom and that she was being a jerk. She said she didn't know she needed to be prepared to recall every single thing she did in my house today. She can be so fucking inconsiderate. I told her the one thing I asked her to be was a considerate roommate. I also asked her to stop using my makeup (yea, she did that today too; sharpened my eyeliner pen to boot-seriously, WTF who borrows eyeliner?). I decided I wasn't going to feel bad about our fight at all and I went to the gym. I worked like crazy for 30 minutes and came home sated and relaxed. I can't do legs right now on account of my probably-need-to-go-to-the-doctor leg situation but arms are feeling sufficiently worked out. Exercise is awesome.
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