Stompers is Stomping

I try to keep things happy and lighthearted here but there's one topic I can't avoid. I have two roommates, one of whom I call Stompers (not to her face of course, but it has almost slipped out on a few occasions). Stompers likes to order takeout from the Thai place on our street every other night. She likes to eat her meals off of 2 or 3 dishes, which she will leave in the sink or on the counter overnight until the pad thai has hardened and flies are hovering. She likes to eat this takeout while watching something crappy on Lifetime Movie Network. She follows this meal by consuming a portion of birthday cake that she purchases weekly. Sometimes, if it's close to a holiday, she'll substitute birthday cake for something like a festive Halloween cake. 

Stompers is a little anti-social. She hides in her room when I have visitors or completely ignores them when she walks by. She totally killed my Obama inauguration party saying my respectful and quiet friends clapped and cheered too loudly when they announced the historic results (at 10pm when she normally goes to sleep at midnight). I've had visitors for entire weekends never see or interact with her, but yes, they have heard her. 

Stompers can really stomp. It sounds as if she has cement blocks strapped to her feet as she paces back and forth on our hardwood floors. She will do this at 6 am and or in the middle of the night after coming home from a round of speed dating. One morning I counted 14 stomp filled trips from her room to the bathroom or kitchen and back. FOURTEEN! It's like she wants to be my wake up call. So each morning, I lie in bed, count how many laps she has made around the apartment, and wait for the sweet moment of freedom when she slams the door behind her.

I can hear her stomping right now. My blood is boiling a little bit, which is helpful since it is 40 degrees outside in April. Boston, I heart you, but Stompers and the longest winter ever are really bringing you down.