The Long-lost Roommate (a rant)
Frank was the kind of fellow who wore a pinstripe suit to his college classes, but left it laying on the floor when it wasn’t on his body. Disheveled would be a mild characterization.
Frank was not a punctual person. He chronically over-slept, and would arrive late to almost every class. Frank was over six feet tall, heavy, and lumbersome. His entry into class was not what we would call subtle.
Frank would plummet down into his chair, his bedhead making for a comical sight, and immediately raise his hand to participate in the conversation, even though he had no idea what it was about. It would be about this time that one would notice the sweat dripping from his brow (from having run up the steps). He would slouch, lean ought and lightly forward, and with one elbow on the desk, point at you with punctuated jabs when he spoke.
Frank was an open-mouth breather. He was also out of shape.
Frank did not understand the principle of hanging up one’s towel in a shared bathroom. We did eventually reach this compromise: I would simply kick the wet, wadded towels into his room. I try not to think about the fact that this is where the towel stayed until he again needed it. He laundered only at very great intervals any garments, outer or under. Since this is a public forum, I will not mention the other bathroom-related improprieties, which were many and very unhygienic.
I do not know where Frank is today. Perhaps he returned to his home in Michigan somewhere – that is all I remember about his personal affairs. When I left, I did not leave a forwarding address; nor did I solicit his. It is probably best that, at long last, we remain lost to one another, until that great reunion in the sky where sin and all things unhygienic are brought low.