And the noose tightens another 3 notches.

Prior post is about a line drawn in the sand carpet.

Today’s is the end’s nearing.

You have to read the prior post to appreciate the thumb and restrictions I’m under at home the residence. Can’t really call it “my residence,” the mistress of the house is that dominating and controlling!

The past few days, I’ve been doing my laptopping at the kitchen table. The table’s in its own space adjoining the open kitchen and is rarely used save as a drop-off point for groceries or the like.

I’ve been sitting there for a good and valid reasons, none worth detailing. I much prefer that space by the window for the natural light than my “study” that I rent because it’s rather dark and depressing and unhealthy for my brain chemistry after years of suffering the Great Depression in the cold damp sunless gray Pacific Northwest.

You know the saying, “Children should be seen and not heard”? The house mistress view runs parallel: “Roommates should not be seen and not heard.”

So it was no surprise — in fact, I sensed it was coming — when today she asked: “Is there a reason you’re using the kitchen table instead of your room?”

I don’t know why she bothered asking. She wasn’t interested in the answers one bit. It took all of 5 seconds for her to jump on me and boldly disregard any explanation.

What she WAS interested in is telling me that the kitchen table cannot be used for computer work. Yes, the kitchen area is a common area (for the three of us roommates). FOR COOKING. FOR COOKING. She shouted.

There will be NO laptops at the kitchen table that no one uses.

So the table’s off limits. The living room — which in most homes is shared space — is off limits. Because that’s HER space and where she and her friend/roommate and the dogs watch TV. I can go watch TV in my little study.

Oh, and the huge backyard’s off limits. I can pass through IF need be en route to the garage.

Yep, the noose just tightened 10 pulls.

Like I wrote: Roommates shouldn’t be seen and they shouldn’t be heard. And I’m paying for this. And I’m paying for this?

I’m so damn sick and tired of roommates. I go that route only because I HAVE TO. Believe me, if I could afford to live alone, I would.

However, for THAT to happen, I have to first have a job! And not just some crap shit lame job that pays minimum wage — been there done that for 10 years now! I need a REAL job with a REAL income! And the first thing I’ll do is slip outta the noose of my roommate’s making and go find a place where I can BREATHE.

Damn.

Incidentally, as she barked her rules and demands at me while walking away from me down her hallway, I shouted in return: “OK, OK! You’re the boss!” — in a moment of levity.

“That’s right!” she returned, seriously.

Handwriting’s on the wall and it spells M-O-V-E.

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