Yet again, I am sitting at work with nothing to do, knowing deep inside that this is the calm before the storm. With this job, I work, work, work my fingers to the bone and then wait to be worked to the bone again. I would enjoy the down time if I had a say in how I spent it, but instead I just sit bored at work looking dreamily out the window, surfing vacation sites on the web and thinking of all I would do if I had the day to myself. Today, I have decided to write my blog and unload some things I have been pondering the past couple of days.

As we drove into work yesterday, my roommate/co-worker asked," Do you ever feel like we do the same thing everyday?" In the melancholic silence that followed, I imagined myself running on a big metal wheel in a cage of sawdust, pooping near my food bowl. Then I contemplated jumping from the moving vehicle. Shortly after, we passed three kids at their bus stop--the same three kids we see everyday standing at their bus stop. I waved. They looked at me funny. So much for shaking up the routine.

In January, I moved in with a guy--just a guy, not a lover or boyfriend or anything. Since that move, I have contemplated what I like so much about living with guys--not lovers or boyfriends. Over time, the advantages of a male roommate have become clear.

Firstly, the apartment is clean-ish, but there is no pressure to keep the place spotless. While we both clean up our dishes and wipe up our messes, it is acceptable to leave a cup on the counter overnight or drape a coat over a chair for a while. Well, let me just say that I leave my cup on the counter and drape a coat of a chair overnight--my roommate is actually quite neat. He calls the momentary lapses in cleanliness my "grace period."

Secondly, I feel absolutely no pressure to look nice in my apartment. Of course I use some discretion in my home fashion choices, but overall, lounging in sweatpants, a t-shirt and no make-up is not a big deal. Why? Because he is not competing with me--he does not need to out-dress me or be prettier than me or criticize me to make him feel better. He just doesn't care! And, if I do ever have a boy over, he won't try to seduce him! A nice perk!

Thirdly, I can watch sports whenever I want. I will never catch flack for shutting myself in my room and watching basketball all afternoon. That said, I actually never catch flack for shutting myself in my room period. Certainly, my roommate and I enjoy each other's company, frequently occupying our side by side "his and her man chairs," cheering for Donald Trump firing his latest victim or whincing for the next American fallen Idol--but there is also an understanding that needing time alone is okay too. No one's feelings are injured or ego bruised when I choose to curl up with a book in my bed over watching a movie with him. Oh, the joys of drama-less living!

Lastly, my culinary ego is stroked on a nightly basis. My roommate is adept at making pasta, sandwiches and sausages--that is about it! Of course I encourage him to branch out and try following a recipe, but he chooses to stick to familiar territory. I, on the other hand, am frequently experimenting with my own combinations or a new recipe creating anything from curry to brown bread to chicken parmesan. All of my creations, whether sweet or savory, are hailed with praises such as: "God, that smells so good!" Or, "That looks delicious. May I please have bite! Oh man, that is good!" Whether he compliments to earn a free meal or he genuinely likes my comestible creations, this nightly ego stroking does a body good.

After discussing these pros with my roommate, he has asked me to write about the cons of living with a male roommate. In the interest of preserving my happy home, and respecting the privacy of all those involved--I plead the fifth.