Blood is on the Dance Floor

Dear me, I seem to be musical.

Last evening, sitting at my laptop and "working" I heard the door open and was siezed by terror, because I'm the only one who was supposed to be in the house AND I WAS ALREADY INSIDE. It turned out to be the Flatmate, who popped by after work to drop off his laptop and backpack.

He moves himself in today, since all other appendages are already installed, including the TV. Yes, MinCat will now have a TV. God help me.

Contemplating the prospect of living with a Boy, *shudder* I wonder how it will go. He promises faithfully to do things "my way", and poor thing probably thinks current state of disarray is normal - little knowing that when MinCat lives with another person and doesn't have to study for end-term things she is MAD OBSESSIVE about neat and clean common areas.

More worrying however, is how he will handle the salsa in the living room on Saturday mornings, and the doing dishes as waking up ritual, or the constant musical presence. Not to mention eclectic eating habits. How will I handle sharing the study with the TV? What if his friends are annoying?

A male flatmate, a white couch and periods - not a good combination. Little do you men know the stress we go through! Lady Macbeth wlda got the blood off [or is it her that didn't? I never know if I'm thinking Macbeth or Wyrd Sisters] her hands cos boy are we women used to bloodstains. Really, who perpetrates that whole women faint at the sight of blood thing? Can you imagine how much of our lives we'd spend unconscious then? How inconvenient to faint four days a month. hehehehehe.

Of course the Flatmate has a sister, whom he is very close to it seems, so I should be ok. I wonder though, whether to be all Sresht Bharatiya Nari about it and pretend nothing's going on or just go oh god I HATE YOU MOTHERUFCKER YOU DONT HAVE CRAMPS.