Dear Roommate

Ashley,

My clothes hamper being full and today being my day off, I decided this morning to make use of the washing machine. I found within the dryer a small and inoffensive number of your clothes, however, and wishing to forestall the laundry roadblock that would inevitably result should I not behave proactively at that juncture, I cast about for a basket in which to place them. I knew that it would be in bad form to heap them atop the dryer in light of that surface's grease spots and animal hair, as well as the general disorder of the kitchen at this moment (Incidentally, I apologize for my role in creating that environment.) Finding no basket in the immediate vicinity, I headed upstairs to find one in your room.

I hope that I was not overstepping my boundaries in doing so. This is the crucial issue. I want you to know that in your absence during the day, I am not rummaging through your belongings. I am not loitering in your room eating messy foods. I am not trying on your clothes and accessories and imitating you while sashaying back and forth in front of a mirror. I would not enter your room while you are away except in just such a circumstance -- that is, a brief mission with a clear, pragmatic, and ethical objective that would stand to benefit us both.

But as countless American generals have discovered to their chagrin, mission creep is a fact of life. Though I found no empty basket in the room, your dog (with whom I believe I share some rapport) was retired upon your bed, and upon my unexpected entrance she began thumping her large, meaty tail in welcome. Unfortunately, her position was such that the wagging of said appendage upended a large cup of water resting on your bedside table. She leaped away in terror (of course) and the water spilled out onto your shoes below, dampened a bag containing some books, and began creeping along the floor towards a power strip. In a flash, I considered simply leaving the room and abandoning the situation to develop of its own momentum. The dog was directly responsible, not I. What culpability did I bear? Who could possibly prove that I was in your room at all? You arrive home to some wet shoes and an overturned cup: it's clear what happened.

Mostly, I feared that to move objects around and to sop up the water would be to decisively indicate a foreign presence in your bedroom and would convince you that I was snooping in your things. Perhaps the slight displacement in the position of your belongings would not even register on a consciousness level...but nonetheless, I feared, something deep inside the hippocampus would be alerted to the change and trigger the beginnings of an unshakable suspicion that your roommates are snoopers. (We are not snoopers.) I don't think you are an unreasonable or irrational person -- to the contrary, you are in my opinion an excellent roommate. However, once an idea takes root it is difficult to dislodge from the mind. This manner of incident is the sort of "horseshoe nail" that can poison the atmosphere in a roommate household, Ashley. So, I very slightly nudged aside the bag and shoes to minimize further contact with the water and continued to stare.

But as I stood there watching the pool trickle towards further havoc, I slowly realized what a disgusting thing I was considering. I was actually going to walk away, the costs to you be damned! I was going to let your things get soaked -- not out of greed, pride, passion or weakness, but simply because I could get away with inaction. Overcome with shame, I went downstairs to fetch a rag and then mopped up the water immediately. I also placed your clothes on L.'s dresser and moved aside a few things to make this possible. So this is why.

Please accept this explanation. Also, just to let you know, if you need anything from our room at any point, you are welcome to go and get it. Also, you are welcome to wear my clothes and loiter around in my room when I am gone if you want. Also, we bought you a couple of bags of corn chips to replace the ones I ate last weekend when I was drunk. They're on the food shelf.