Aug 29 2008
Know it All
I met Mallory in Tuscany, we were roommates in the castle at Spanoccia. When I met her the first time she announced that, there was only one dresser in our room and she would take the top drawers because she was five months pregnant and I could have the bottom.
“My backpack was stolen, all I have is the outfit I’m wearing so help yourself,” I said.
“Well I suppose you could borrow my clothes, but I will expect you to wash them before returning them,” she offered.
“Thanks, but I don’t mind wearing the same thing for two weeks, I’m hard core.” I joked. “I only wish I could find sunscreen, apparently Italians don’t use sunscreen.”
“I guess you can use mine, but only use a tiny bit, it’s all I’ve got,” she said handing me her Costco size bottle.
I took the final bite from my apple and tossed the core into the trash can.
“Don’t do that! There’s a compost bin downstairs!” she scolded.
I’ve only been this woman’s roommate for fifteen minutes and I already can’t stand her. Maybe it’s her hormones raging on me. I’m convinced that my ovaries smelt her growing fetus and knocked themselves up, like a contagious disease.
I’ve been emailing Mallory the Bad Mom Series and she always has a response like, “you should be using cloth diapers and you wouldn’t have leakage. The library has separate baby hours on Wednesdays between noon and two, you should go then and you wouldn’t have any problems. You shouldn’t bring the baby be on the bus, there are too many germs for his immune system.”
Everything I say or do she disagrees with. Now she wants to get together and hang out with our babies. Let’s face it Mal, I hated you in Italy and I still hate you now.
