our marital bed

the lunatics took over the asylum before so much as one class took place. today was official check-in, orientation.
it was pandemonium. the lobby was swarming, SWARMING, with furious yogis suddenly told they'd have no kitchens (after being promised kitchens) and would be three to a room (after being assured it was two to a room).
it got so bad that shelly (training coordinator) had to make public apologies to a few of the irate kids and almost started crying, herself, during orientation. i felt for the gal. she was desperately ill equiped in dealing with the unnerving situation, but she used to work as a push cart street vendor in brooklyn. i love that. all is forgiven.

i knew good and well to expect disappointment, so i wasn't phased until.....i found out i was sharing a room with only one bed. one bed. two people.

this is just not acceptable.

so i go to shelly and i say, "look. i realize you've got hordes of angry people milling around and you must be a bit overwhelmed....and i'm rolling with the kitchen thing....but, seriously, am i suppossed to SHARE A BED with a stranger for nine weeks? isn't that just a bit absurd?"

shelly adjusts her glasses, looks me straight in the eye, and says, "don't worry. i shared that bed with my husband last night and we barely touched each other. you'll be fine."

i don't even know where to begin with that statement.

number one, i've seen shelly and her husband (neither of them slight in size) and, trust me, it is logistically impossible that there was no physical overlap on that bed.
number two, there is no analogy between shelly and a man she legally wed and me and some stranger from the pacific northwest. it is not the same. its just not.

but, since there's a whole line of other people waiting patiently to scream at shelly, i do the considerate-yogi-thing and move on so the next person can have their turn to abuse her. as annoying as i find the totally inexcusable level of professionalism here, i am simply not a demanding person.
its a huge waste of time to wish people weren't who they are and situations weren't what they are.
its nine weeks. i'm not letting nonsense like this get in the way of my good time.

my roomate, as i anticipated, is together, organized, and in contorl. i always end up with that person. it never fails.
i listened to her rational argument about the injustice of the no-kitchen situation (oh, some people got fabulous kitchens. it was totally arbitrary the way the rooms worked out.). as she ranted, she folded her clothing into freakishly neat piles and arranged her toiletries into organized patterns. as she rallied, i was on the other side of our bed smelling each thing i pulled out of my chaotic bag and trying to assess whether i'd even washed that item before packing it. tampons were flying out, lotions spilling, shampoo bottles leaking.
she has no idea the utter mess she's in for, sharing a room with me.

after she repeatedly said to me, "we've got to make a decision about what to do here."
(meaning, she wanted to plan our attack against the powers that be and not take this kitchen thing lying down)
i finally accepted the truth about myself.
I just don't care that much.
i'm not up for a revolt.
i don't want to be angry. i hate being angry.
the whole thing is decidedly unfair. it really is. but, in life as i've known it, the absolute most useless thing you can get stuck on is the notion of fair. a couple of clowns down the hall got an an incredible room with two beds and a kitchen. we didn't.
i got two arms and legs. somewhere, someone else didn't.

i'm sleepy now.

only 24 hours in and already ripe with hilarity.
how great is that?