June 13 to 20 is National Hermit Week.
As a kid growing up in northwestern Louisiana, I always heard stories about a hermit who lived around Lake Bistineau where I lived.
The stories scared me. I pictured some crazy guy who wore animal skins and ceremonially sacrificed little kids to the devil. (Yes, this was Baptist country.)
At that time, I couldn’t figure out why anyone would want to live like that. It must have been a lonely existence.
I figured it out when I went to college and got roommates.
This is the end of my second full year of university life and I am currently on my seventh roommate. The following snippets will explain why.
There is nothing like coming home at 2 a.m. after a long day of traveling. You’re tired, and you want to go to bed.
However, when you arrive at the door to the bedroom you share with a roomy, there is a note on it that says, “You might want to knock.”
Being the considerate roommate you are, you knock and wait an appropriate amount of time for people to, well, get their bearings.
After five minutes of patient waiting, you slowly unlock and open the door only to see scampering nude bodies jumping behind furniture.
And then there is the awkward conversation between you and your roommate while the other embarrassed person hides in the closet.
The next morning you wake up to another friendly note from your roomy: “It wasn’t really AS BAD as it looked.”
Thanks, roomy.
Of course, we have all heard about those guys who will never clean up their own mess in the bathroom.
I lived with them.
Now, I am no neat freak. But there is only so much human filth I can stand to live in when I’m not in a third world country. This is America people!
At one particular apartment I lived in, there was enough coarse “man hairs” lining the linoleum floor to weave a Persian rug.
Because of those same squiggly, little body parts, you would’ve thought the bathroom sink was carpeted.
Then there was the tub. For the first couple of days I lived there, I thought the thing was actually made of gray porcelain.
That was just soap scum, though. After I scrubbed that sucker down myself, it was pearly white.
I don’t know why we actually had a toilet. Most people just peed right on the floor anyway.
But don’t you worry, the “hair carpet” soaked it right up.
So are you still glad you’re not a hermit?
I definitely could’ve given some of those animal skins to the naked roomy, and I certainly considered ceremonial sacrifice for the others.
Go pat your favorite hermit on the back next week for staying strong and avoiding all human contact.
Don’t take Adam too seriously and contact him at [email protected]