Steamroller Update
Steamroller's parents are still in town. Chinese strangers are in my apartment, hidden away in Steamroller's bedroom. Late at night when I'm in bed, I hear voices in another language that keep me awake. When I walk by the kitchen there are strange foods on the counter, raw egg drippings and egg shells in the sink, and food splatter all over the stove. I try to ignore it and just secretly Clorox Wipe the entire kitchen when nobody else is home.
I've now run into the mother (whose name I don't know) three times. Never see the father, though I've heard a male voice speaking Mandarin, which I assume is his.
On Sunday afternoon I got a migraine that became so bad that I took a taxi home. When I walked into my apartment, The Mother was cooking up lots of great-smelling foods. I said hi to her without breaking stride; my goal of getting to my bed too important to stop for formalities. Out of the corner of my brain, I registered that she seemed disappointed. The Mother had wanted to chat with me, and I made that impossible. Promptly going to bed, I slept on and off until 1 a.m. Awake through the early morning until it was time to go to work Monday, I headed home that evening beyond EXHAUSTED.
While on my way, my cell phone rang.
Steamroller: Are you going to be home soon?
GY: I'm not sure, why do you ask?
Steam: Oh, never mind.
GY: What's up?
Steam: I forgot my key and am locked out.
GY: I'm getting on the train now, and should be home in 15-20 minutes. Why don't you wait in the lobby?
I stopped off for milk, and then headed up to my floor. Standing outside the door was The Mother. The Steamroller herself was nowhere to be found.
I smiled at The Mother, said hello, and after I unlocked the door, she followed me in. It was 6:30 p.m., I was tired (having been up since 1 a.m.), hungry for dinner, and the kitchen was a WRECK. The Mother wanted to talk. Before I could do my usual Home From Work things (hanging up my coat, taking off my shoes, washing my hands, etc.) she'd blocked me in the living room. To tell me what?
To tell me how much she really likes me. How it makes her feel good that the Steamroller lives with me. How the Steamroller aspires to be like me (Huh?! I didn't ask). To say that although the Steamroller thinks she's mature, she's actually spoiled and immature. To say that the Steamroller hopes to live with me even after we have to move. That the Steamroller looks up to me like a big sister. The Mother then got teary, told me she loves me, and hugged me. Tightly. OH MY GOD.
I finally managed to put all the things I was holding down on the bench, get free from The Mother, and go get a drink of water.
The Mother continued talking, telling me how she and The Father were headed to LA on Tuesday for a few days, but then would be back. "Oh, how interesting; I hope you have a great time in LA!" Wait a minute, what do you mean when you say you'll be back? Back in San Francisco, or back messing up the kitchen I can't use when you cook in it?
Then The Mother drops The Bomb. Apparently her wittle steamwoller didn't realize how work would be so... so... workish! There are long hours! There's overtime! It's HARD! Wittle Steamwoller is not as happy as she was when she went to visit The Parents in China, when she flitted around Hong Kong, dyed her hair red, and partied like a rock star. Shocking. Yeah so Steamroller is planning on quitting her job October 16th. The Mother tells me this, and then adds that the act of quitting her job will be stressful, so she's going to come back and help her wittle steamwoller through the difficult transition of QUITTING HER JOB.
I did a lot of nodding and oh reallying. I did not at any time freak out on The Mother and tell her she's got to get the hell out, pronto. I did not tell The Mother that rage was ripping through my body as she spoke to me, due to her daughter's lie about having forgotten her key. I did not tell The Mother that I cannot wait to get rid of her daughter, that her daughter is only better than the slutty roommate I had in college who had sex with various boys while I slept (or lay awake, as the case may be) in the very same room. (By the way, just for you, I will mention that the slutty roommate had red shoes.) I did not tell The Mother that she will not be staying in our apartment come October 16th.
I am going to make Steamroller do this. She actually said to me, "Don't worry; I'm very mature" when we initially met, as she looked out at the Bay Bridge in what is now her bedroom. Which I now realize I should have taken as a warning sign that she wasn't. People who are mature don't have to tell others they are. Hindsight, the bitch, again. So I'm going to make Steamroller be mature like she claimed she was, and talk directly to me. Instead of having The Mother do her dirty work. I'm going to tell her in no uncertain terms that no more houseguests are welcome.
Just as soon as she gets home before midnight.
I've now run into the mother (whose name I don't know) three times. Never see the father, though I've heard a male voice speaking Mandarin, which I assume is his.
On Sunday afternoon I got a migraine that became so bad that I took a taxi home. When I walked into my apartment, The Mother was cooking up lots of great-smelling foods. I said hi to her without breaking stride; my goal of getting to my bed too important to stop for formalities. Out of the corner of my brain, I registered that she seemed disappointed. The Mother had wanted to chat with me, and I made that impossible. Promptly going to bed, I slept on and off until 1 a.m. Awake through the early morning until it was time to go to work Monday, I headed home that evening beyond EXHAUSTED.
While on my way, my cell phone rang.
Steamroller: Are you going to be home soon?
GY: I'm not sure, why do you ask?
Steam: Oh, never mind.
GY: What's up?
Steam: I forgot my key and am locked out.
GY: I'm getting on the train now, and should be home in 15-20 minutes. Why don't you wait in the lobby?
I stopped off for milk, and then headed up to my floor. Standing outside the door was The Mother. The Steamroller herself was nowhere to be found.
I smiled at The Mother, said hello, and after I unlocked the door, she followed me in. It was 6:30 p.m., I was tired (having been up since 1 a.m.), hungry for dinner, and the kitchen was a WRECK. The Mother wanted to talk. Before I could do my usual Home From Work things (hanging up my coat, taking off my shoes, washing my hands, etc.) she'd blocked me in the living room. To tell me what?
To tell me how much she really likes me. How it makes her feel good that the Steamroller lives with me. How the Steamroller aspires to be like me (Huh?! I didn't ask). To say that although the Steamroller thinks she's mature, she's actually spoiled and immature. To say that the Steamroller hopes to live with me even after we have to move. That the Steamroller looks up to me like a big sister. The Mother then got teary, told me she loves me, and hugged me. Tightly. OH MY GOD.
I finally managed to put all the things I was holding down on the bench, get free from The Mother, and go get a drink of water.
The Mother continued talking, telling me how she and The Father were headed to LA on Tuesday for a few days, but then would be back. "Oh, how interesting; I hope you have a great time in LA!" Wait a minute, what do you mean when you say you'll be back? Back in San Francisco, or back messing up the kitchen I can't use when you cook in it?
Then The Mother drops The Bomb. Apparently her wittle steamwoller didn't realize how work would be so... so... workish! There are long hours! There's overtime! It's HARD! Wittle Steamwoller is not as happy as she was when she went to visit The Parents in China, when she flitted around Hong Kong, dyed her hair red, and partied like a rock star. Shocking. Yeah so Steamroller is planning on quitting her job October 16th. The Mother tells me this, and then adds that the act of quitting her job will be stressful, so she's going to come back and help her wittle steamwoller through the difficult transition of QUITTING HER JOB.
I did a lot of nodding and oh reallying. I did not at any time freak out on The Mother and tell her she's got to get the hell out, pronto. I did not tell The Mother that rage was ripping through my body as she spoke to me, due to her daughter's lie about having forgotten her key. I did not tell The Mother that I cannot wait to get rid of her daughter, that her daughter is only better than the slutty roommate I had in college who had sex with various boys while I slept (or lay awake, as the case may be) in the very same room. (By the way, just for you, I will mention that the slutty roommate had red shoes.) I did not tell The Mother that she will not be staying in our apartment come October 16th.
I am going to make Steamroller do this. She actually said to me, "Don't worry; I'm very mature" when we initially met, as she looked out at the Bay Bridge in what is now her bedroom. Which I now realize I should have taken as a warning sign that she wasn't. People who are mature don't have to tell others they are. Hindsight, the bitch, again. So I'm going to make Steamroller be mature like she claimed she was, and talk directly to me. Instead of having The Mother do her dirty work. I'm going to tell her in no uncertain terms that no more houseguests are welcome.
Just as soon as she gets home before midnight.
posted by Green at 9/13/2006 02:52:00 PM
5 Comments:
In my experience, the steamroller roommate is also the petty, vindictive, and unpredictable psycho on the way out the door. She sounds like a classic case. I suggest moving anything valuable to you out of the apartment if your discussion goes badly.
The sooner you're rid of the manipulator, the better off you'll be. Anonymous has a point. Steamroller might just pout and go run back to mommy, but she might also turn ugly. Don't give her any more ammo than you have to for the next month.
I really wish I lived in San Francisco right now. I would seriously have to come visit your Mandarin-ise refugees. I couldn't help myself.
Is this the first time Steamroller ever lived w/ someone that wasn't family?
She's quite clueless. I can't believe her parents are staying w/her in her room. That creeps me out but also sounds like something my inlaws would do.
OMFG. How soon can you move???
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