Marriage often leads to roommates.

Being married is great; there is nothing like having someone to laugh with, watch tv with, and talk out your troubles with (to list just a few reasons)...BUT...just like every thing else there is a down side.  With a marriage usually comes a roommate, and with a roommate comes a boat load of new difficulties.

On your best of days you can overlook them missing the hamper, not putting away their belongings, or leaving dirty dishes in the sink.  The fact that they read 4 books a week is endearing but leaving them all over the house becomes irritating.  You breath deeply and decide to pick up the slack for a day or two until you become a ticking time bomb. You're secretly daring them to mention just one slip up you've made; you have all your artillery on hand, just waiting to pounce.  If left unchecked feelings of resentment can begin to bubble to the surface.  You've worked so hard to keep the house in order, you've cooked meals, and washed clothes...you're proud of all that you were able to accomplish in your waking hours.  You are shocked that your roommate wouldn't see what a sacrifice you've made to keep things in 'tip top shape'. 

I know all of these feelings ALL to well, and it's not because my roommate is crappy but because of my expectations.  I not only expect my roomie to understand feelings I haven't actually said aloud but I think he values things like a swept floor, clean counters, or sparkling tubs.  For all I know he may be walking through the house fuming over my 6 dirty cups a day, me leaving clean clothes in the dryer, forgetting to replace the toliet paper on the holder, or my piles of dirty socks by my bed side.  So today as I stand on the edge of the high dive just raring to take a leap into the deep end of crazy I must remind myself that I too am a roommate, and not always the best one either.