I've been attacked

It is no surprise that my roommate/best friend and I are quite unique. As discussed last night, we have very few things actually in common, but at the same time we very alike. For instance, we discovered I like just about any type of music, except for her favorite. She is in a super-smart-policy-writing-club and I am in social clubs that will build my resume and portfolio. She loves research and The Office. I love planning and Jersey Shore.

It works.

She has recently come up with a theory to why our relationship works. One, because we are compliments but not copies. Two, because we fight like men. All through my childhood, society told me that girls were "catty" fighters and boys simply "duke it out" when they have issues with one another. I beg to freakin' differ. Our mutual guy friends, as pointed out last night by one of them, are way more catty than our girl friends. Instead of confronting their male counterpart head on, our friends often whine to us or talk crap. So, we fight like men.

I know you are wondering "fight"? That's right. My roommate has even come up with trading card poses for us. Her strength is her long arms and legs; she can always reach me. My strength is that, well, am stronger than she is. Her words: limbs and pounce.

The other night, I climbed up to my lofted bed and commented that I had forgotten to change the thermostat. She insisted that I get back down and change it, but because she had knocked it up one-zillion degrees earlier, I stood my ground. Finally she proceeded to get down off of her bed and scurry to the thermostat. She then lied and said she turned it up some more. I knew this was a lie because she kept laughing. She giggles when she lies. So, I left it alone.

About five minutes later I was drifting into sleep-good land and I feel something move. I open my eyes and I see a dark figure cascade across the room. I have been hit with one of her blue-jean pillows. This, apparently, was my payback.

It works. Instead of her getting angry that I would not get out of bed, or me getting mad because she lied, we  fought via our beds from opposite sides of the room until we lost several pillows to the ground below.Don't fix it if it ain't broke.