The coffee's good. The bike trail's awesome. The timer doesn't work.

It's been over a week, and both my sister and I remain alive and well.

It has not, however, been without mishap. I discovered cat puke on the kitchen floor one morning. (I was secretly grateful that Catface deposited that little bundle of joy on the ugly tile in the kitchen, rather than on the new carpet. Seriously.) I can't find the box with my first aid kit in it. And possibly my worst New Roomie faux pas to date - last night, I left the dryer on.

My sister Pat has a great laundry room. To me, what makes it great is that it doesn't have coin slots. Doing laundry FOR FREE on ANY NIGHT I CHOOSE is a super cool perk, after having a designated day (Friday) and a cost per load ($2.50) for the past six years. So one would think that the fact that the timer on the dryer is on the fritz would be easy enough to deal with. Set the timer on my phone, or on the stove, and hustle my bunskis down to the basement so the dryer didn't continue running unnecessarily.

One would think. 

One, it turns out, would be wrong.

I had just one more load to dry. My white clothes; underwear, t-shirts, that sort of thing. By the time I got home Sunday night, I must have been more tired (tireder?) than I realized. I put my clothes in the dryer, and came upstairs to make lunches. I got into my jammies and settled in, and then completely forgot about the dryer. 

I tried to watch TV, but within 10 minutes, I was out like a light.

It wasn't until this morning, when I read the text from Pat ("Brought up your laundry ... couldn't figure out what the noise was and you were sound asleep") that I realized what a buffoon I am.

Don't worry, I apologized. And I will take steps (um, something simple like setting a timer would do it, fool) to make sure it doesn't happen again. 

But that's really it for the bumps in the road. For the most part, living with my sister is like living alone, but with someone else in a strange place. I have all my stuff (though I don't always know where it is) and I have someone to talk to. (And it hasn't escaped either of us that it takes no longer to prepare a meal for two than it does to prepare a meal for one.) The cat seems to love having someone who is home more than I ever was (though he still doesn't come running when Pat comes home) and between the two of us, we have three coffeemakers. I have a super easy ride (1.5 miles) to a gorgeous bike trail, and I run into random friends at the grocery store. So, seriously, no complaints. 

Although if any of you wanted to come unpack the rest of my boxes, that'd be fine.

-Maggie