For those of you just looking to see pictures of the new apartment and not read my mindless prattling, please skip to the end of the post.

Jessica and I have been living here for just shy of three weeks.  Being that I have lived alone for the past four years (and, arguably, essentially alone for many years prior to that), I have frequently been asked how living with someone else is.  I always pause when asked this, because I am never quite certain whether I am being asked about living with another human being (and two cats) or whether I am being asked about living with Jessica in particular.  The two seem to be two very distinct and different questions, and I think Jessica would agree with me in saying that they possess two markedly different answers.  We are very unique individuals, and we both prefer to not have a roommate due to that fact.  However, it is much easier financially to have one, especially in metro Boston.  We dove into this together thinking that we could make this work.

The story of how Jessica and I met is one for a different time, but we met almost four years ago.  We didn’t really become friends until about two years ago, and we didn’t start to actually hang out and become close until a little over a year ago, but when we did, our friendship quickly blossomed.  We are very different people, and if you were to ask us how we fit together so well, we would tell you that we simply do not know; we just do.

I was worried about having a roommate because, while I am opinionated, I am also extremely empathetic, and I always feel bad for telling people how I feel about things that pertain to them and myself when it is something negative.  I would be horribly embarrassed to ask someone to please refrain from doing something.  I don’t like being reproached, and I guess I assume that it is embarrassing for everyone else, too.  Jessica is one of the few people I can be honest with and who doesn’t make me feel bad about being so.  I was afraid that someone would take advantage of that once they realized it, but I knew she wouldn’t.  In my mind, she became an ideal candidate.  The fact that she is my best friend didn’t hurt her chances either.

Jessica was living alone in a studio apartment in Allston paying way too much and living in sub par conditions.  She was looking to get out at around the same time I would be done with school and looking to move.

The timing was right for both of us, and we obviously get along splendidly.  Neither of us were excited about having a roommate (I was quite paranoid about it, truth be told), but we were excited by the prospect of having each other as a roommate.  Our only real reservation, or at least my only real reservation, was the impact that it might have on our friendship.  In my experience, friends have always been transitory.  I tend to be the rock people break themselves upon, and securing my affection has always seemed to be the nail in the coffin for devastating absolutely everything.  (I really should come with a warning label–Warning: Securing Her Affections May Result in Horrible Life.  Best Run away Now.)  However, that is not an excuse she is willing to accept.  In fact, every time I go self-deprecating on her, she always responds with, “I’ll pretend I didn’t just hear that.”  We discussed it, and we both came to the realization that in our friendship we have never once been angry with the other.  She told me that she cannot say that of anyone else in her life.  I said that I could not either.  It struck us as a little odd, so we decided to remedy that by moving in together.

Three weeks later, that fact still holds true.  Everyone always says that you never really know somebody until you live with them.  I suppose that’s true, but I have yet to be surprised by Jessica.  Both the good and the bad, nothing has come as a surprise to me, and even the things that would normally bother me and make my eye twitch don’t really bother me quite so much with her.  It is a manifestation of who she is as a person, and it is part of the reason I absolutely love her.  Anything less wouldn’t be her.  Though, you won’t hear me complaining if she suddenly decided to magically love Gilmore Girls or stop watching VH1 all. the. time.  No, the VH1 can stay.  I do not understand it, but I can embrace it.  From very, very far away.

Jessica would tell you that I freak her out constantly.  She tells her friends that I apparate and that I am at times too quiet.  I always seemingly sneak up on her unintentionally.  She is absolutely convinced that I apparate.  This seems to open quite a large venue of occupational opportunities for me and a wealth of cardiac arrest potential on her end.

I must confess, it is also nice to live with someone who understands anxiety attacks and panic attacks.  She, too, suffers from an anxiety disorder, and so she just gets it when other people usually don’t.  We are quite eccentric, and we are not at all your normal girls.  I think that is part of the reason why we fit so well.  But this, coupled with our lovely mental dysfunctions made us decide to call our apartment The Asylum.  If you aren’t quite crazy when you enter, you undoubtedly will be when you leave.  (We even have an Edvard Munch print of The Scream that we are planning to hang.  It seems to fit incredibly well.)

Anyway, a lot of people have been requesting photographs.  I initially was not going to post any, because I don’t think our living quarters to be that interesting, and does anyone really want to see everything?  But apparently I was wrong, as I have been handed requests left and right to see absolutely everything.  I have obliged to the best of my ability, but I drew the line at showing you inside my underwear drawer and giving you in-depth pictures of our closets–bedroom, coat, linen or otherwise–because that’s just creepy.  I should note that I permitted Jessica to take pictures of her own room, so all of those are her handiwork, not mine.

Without further ado, I present to you: The Asylum.