What to do when your roommate knows you way too well

By the way, Patty, no, my teachers didn't ever suggest I be tested for AHDT because I was fairly mellow as a child. Give me a book and I was happy. This is still the case but I will be the first to admit that I suffer from Bright, Shiny Object Syndrome.

So. My roommate, Keem. You all know her or have read of her. Keem and I are very good friends and have been since we met at work six odd years ago. It was one of those moments when you meet someone and think "Huh. It seems like I've known this person for years." I have this habit, when I see someone is reading a book, to pick it up and check it out. I love to read and am constantly searching for new authors. Keem was reading a book by Laurel K Hamilton (about Anita Blake, a bounty hunter who bags vampires, among other monsters - good books but a little too gory for my tastes) and this led to a conversation about Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the relative hotness of Angel and Spike and that was it. There was that click and we've been friends ever since.

I'm not sure how Beth and I became friends. While it was at work, I think it was more gradual, I didn't have a clue who she was until we started working the same shift. We worked downtown Saint Paul and after work we would either go to Perkins with Keem. Or we'd hang out in the parking ramp and listen to music and talk (also with Keem usually). We all loved movies and then we discovered scrapbooking and the fact that we enjoyed road trips and it's suddenly 5ish years later and I can't imagine life without either of them.

Anyway, Keem and I have been roommates for almost 5 years (maybe 6. I don't pay attention to these things) and she is a great roommate. She's a good cook, enjoys cleaning (well, more than I do, at least) and understands that I need structure, even when I complain about said structure.

After all this time, it has got to the point that I cannot keep anything from her. She knows me too well. She says I have a tone and she can tell when I am lying (or rolling my eyes or whining (I prefer "complaining creatively" or anything).

She gave me a cold sore. It's probably my own fault. I knew she had a cold sore but I let her drink out of my water glass on Saturday. Yesterday my very own cold sore popped up on my lip (I hate the little bastards. They are just so irritating).

We are in the car, waiting for it to warm up so we can go home. She is telling me about something that happened on her day. I have turned to face her and my face is somewhat hidden by my jacket collar.

Keem (K): And then the stock owner said this and I said something and...DANA!
DM: What?
K: Stop scratching your cold sore on your zipper!
DM: I'm not!
K: Yeah, right! Don't you lie to me, missy! If you do that, it might spread and then you'll get cold sores on your face!

I pull my lips away from the zipper quickly.

K: I know you too well.

I don't know how she knows these things. But I do know she is going to make a fantastic mother some day. I figure I have provided her with a lot of practice.

I am excited about this weekend. I can't believe that I am actually looking forward to turning 40. It is pretty amazing what the right combination of happy pills and good friends can do for you. This is the first birthday in years that hasn't depressed me incredibly (I had a former "friend" who used to say to me on March 1st every year "Dana, you're going to be 25 (or 26 or whatever). What have you accomplished with your life?" And when I would try to say my life wasn't all that bad, he would come back with all of his accomplishments. Sometimes I kind of wish I could run into him now because a) Beth and Keem HATE him and would kick his ass and b) I gained back a great portion of my self-esteem since he is no longer a part of my life and I would love to tell him off. Or sit back and watch Beth and Keem break him into little pieces and laugh.