She Scares, Because She Cares.

My roommate thinks I'm crazy.
It's because I like to do things like twist my plastic bags into little balls or save mini sauce packets from fast food joints.

I can't help it if I'm all about efficiency.

My roommate is also the master of torture.
Last night, after turning out all of the lights and heading to bed, I wandered back into the kitchen to grab a vitamin and a glass of water. Little did I know that she would be crouching in the darkness, waiting for me to walk by.

The girl can make the creepiest noises you've ever heard. Combine all of the monsters and psychopaths from every movie you've ever seen and that is the sound she produces as she crawls from the darkness and claws at your legs.

Naturally, this produces extreme terror on my part.
And usually shrill screaming. (Sorry people on the floor below us. Not my fault.)

A relatively normal person would call it good at that, after producing the desired result. But my roomie bestie?... Never.

Needless to say, less than two minutes later, she'd done it again.
And I'm sorry to say, I was completely caught off guard. Again.

I'm here to attest that the terror only intensifies the second time around.
I practically sh** a brick. Pardon my French.

But back to the point at hand.
Why am I being punished for my efficiency?

Okay, okay. It really has nothing to do with efficiency. Lacy-Hacy just likes to scare the bejeebies outta me. For some strange reason it brings her heart immense joy to see me scream and almost fall over.

Then she'll laugh maniacally and saunter back to her room.
It's just not natural, I tell you.

But that's why I love her.
We torture each other. I with my inherent need for perfect organization and she with her inborn desire to frighten people.

And I think we're rubbing off on each other too. Because the other day, she asked me to show her how to twist her plastic bags into little, efficient, space-saving balls. And I, in turn, felt the strange desire to jump out and scare my 6-year old nephew, who immediately burst into tears. Pretty sure I'm winning 'aunt-of-the-year' for that one...

So it's kind of a perfect partnership.
She's tons of fun, and I'm no fun at all. She... completes me.
(Name that movie.)

And let's face it, when she tries the scrumptious smothered burritos I make with those extra Taco Time hot sauce packets and the Mexican rice I whip up with McDonalds' leftover ketchup bags, she's not complainin'.

Kinda like how when I finally get my heart rate back to a normal pace, I'm smiling as I go to sleep because I know I get to wake up tomorrow and be surprised by her spontaneity all over again. :)