Very own apartment comes later in game

Moving day has arrived at my revolving door, but this time there’s no second thoughts or gut-wrenching goodbyes – just a big ol’ “I’m outta here!”

Since I last left things, I was living with one guy roommate – the one who wasn’t working and was on the computer day and night with all his buddies over. Need more reminding? He’s become known to my friends simply as “buttcrack man.”

Well, living got a bit better since then. We came to an understanding over how many people could be over killing and blowing up things on the computer each day, and we decided to move into a three-bedroom for the remainder of our lease. The move would save money, and I figured there would be sanity strength in numbers.

So when a youth pastor showed up at the door responding to our roommate ad, I figured he was as safe of a bet as any.

I never expected the utter bizarreness that has become my nightly sideshow. Moving Dan in didn’t add sanity to the living situation – it added drama.

Dan and I get along great for the most part, but we made a few adjustments that first week or so. One came when we had our first good chat. I told him about my situation and the tough decision to leave my marriage of 13 years – he started quoting the Bible to me about divorce and how it’s not right in God’s eyes. He’s 23, still a virgin, and has never been in a relationship before. I tried politely telling him it was none of his business. He had no idea what we had gone through and how much we tried. He responded with more Scripture and how one should never get divorced – that it was a sin. I told him what he could do with his Bible.

After Dan and I worked out our religious kinks, we carefully began picking our arguments, which became less frequent. After putting up with Jerry and the computer gang for months, Dan’s coffee grounds on the counter and his demand to always have the remote control left on the coffee table seemed easy to take.

Life seemed bearable in the new place until Jerry started tattling on Dan’s every move. He’d call me at work to say Dan left the TV on all night again and was wasting electricity, and how upset he was that Dan moved the garbage bags again. Despite his religious calling, Dan has been no saint to Jerry either. Upon moving in, he asked Jerry to get rid of most of his belongings, saying they were tacky and should be replaced. Dan can be quite intimidating at 250 pounds and the more he told Jerry what to do, the more Jerry came to me with all his complaints. In other words, I suddenly became the mother between squabbling stepbrothers.

I was determined to make it work though. The rent was too good, and I was feeling unsettled enough without worrying about moving again. So the once-a-week meetings began where we talked about living together, me often being the mediator. But despite my best efforts, the talks always ended with Jerry walking off mumbling “I don’t know” to every question and Dan following him down the hallway, ranting and raving.

I’ll save you more craziness and cut to the chase. After Jerry threatened to call the police on Dan a few times, and Dan returned the threat by trying to bust down Jerry’s door, I decided I would move out.

Believe it or not, I find much humor in this situation, and it pushed me into doing something I wanted to do all along – get my own place. The problem was I couldn’t afford it before. The truth is I still can’t without some major penny pinching, but after living in this situation, I know my sanity can’t afford not to.

The God I know and love speaks to me in mysterious ways, and I listen. I don’t always like what he has to say, but I’ve learned to listen. One of the few things I took with me when I left was a plaque that said, “I know God wouldn’t give me anything I couldn’t handle, but some days I wish he didn’t have so much faith in me.” Very true – a lot more so than any Scripture says.

I’ve never lived alone. I went from my parents, to college, and then into marriage. The funny thing is, the idea used to scare me – now it exhilarates me.