I’m not really good at change. Understatement of the century from the girl who dragged out the world’s longest move in all of moving history. Hyperbole intended.
Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate that in order to grow and get all the good things I want out of life change is necessary, but that doesn’t mean I am comfortable with it. Settling down in Toronto, navigating the city, finding a new job, working myself to exhaustion (ok, that last one is nothing new) has all taken a toll. I’m therefore very lucky and grateful to have such an amazing roommate to help me through this.
We have a great, big place downtown-ish on the subway line with an ahhhh-mazing view of the city skyline. Though I keep pretty busy, I cherish the moments when I get to come home because I find it so restful; a feeling I haven’t experienced in pretty much a year (#HoboKenny). This place is mine! Mine I tell you! MINE! And I can’t even begin to tell you how kickass my roommate is. We love hanging out together. We eat meals together and catch up on our day. We split on groceries and house chores without keeping track of it all because it all evens out in the end anyway. We take turns wearing the pants and fighting the evil neighbour cockroaches. As fellow performers, we help each other with auditions and self-tapes. When I’m tired or had a shitty day, I go home and there’s usually some chocolate and/or a marathon of Community (#6seasonsandamoviebitches!) waiting for me. Oh and sometimes, there’s even a random dance party up and down the hall.
So that’s been pretty great. If the opportunity ever presents itself? I highly recommend you get yourself a spunky Newfoundlander for a roommate.