I said that to my roommate Emily earlier this week, during one of the many conversations we have while I sit on the floor in her room.
The way I sit is often a metaphor for whatever we’re discussing:
- if I’ve just come home from work and am checking in for some light-hearted quality time, I will plop myself down on her bed in the middle of whatever she’s been working on (occasionally I shuffle things out of the way)
- if she just came in and I miss her (something that happened in the middle of this sentence, which caused an hour-long blogging intermission), I’ll stand in her doorway, prodding her for details of her day/weekend/week (depending on how busy we’ve both been), and waiting until I’m absolutely sure that she’s not supposed to be doing something else before I either climb onto a corner of her bed or shut the door and sit on the floor in front of it
- if we’re in the midst of conflict and I’m being petulant, I might storm in with my arms flailing – this flailing has only happened once so far, and she handled it quite admirably (which will be a whole ‘nother blog post, about how we should replace “conflict” with “reconciliation” in our language, because often the conflict is already existing, and we need to work through it in order to maintain healthy relationships)
- if I’m dealing with things, buried deep in my head-space or struggling with fear, shame, and anger, I’ll march into her room and sit in the closet – last time this happened I actually leaned back and hid my face in her clothes (neither of us failed to notice the significance of this)
She used to laugh at me when I sat on the floor in her room, but it’s become one of the many Maggie Things that are now normal. This is one of my favorite parts of having roommates – odd behaviors which used to confuse and amuse often become comfortably normal.