My Roomie's in the Hoosegow and I am Guiltily Happy about it . . .

I know.  What kind of freaking friend am I to feel celebratory at someone close to me getting locked up?

I'm the kind of friend thankful to be getting a break.  I'm the kind of friend that took someone with no place to go into my household.  I'm the kind of friend that helped him get benefits he qualified for.  I'm the kind of friend that pays all the bills and made an agreement with him that he'd take care of the household and my bikes in exchange for living here.

I'm the kind of friend that has been going through a small hell with petty arguments, complaints from neighbors and no feeling of peace in my own home.  I'm the kind of friend that has been taken for granted.

I'm a very tired friend.

Welcome, sweet solitude.  You have been greatly mourned and missed.  I applaud your resurrection.  Pull up a chair and sit for a while and return to me my peace and serenity.

He'll be gone a month or two, and I can look forward to a month or two of no arguments, no misplaced items, no competing for the kitchen, no one complaining my television is too loud, no nagging . . . I can sit around completely naked for days on end if I want, and intend to.

I suppose I should feel guilty about feeling so happy and relieved for this respite.  I do feel a little guilty, but the smile won't leave my face.  The sun is shining, the birds are singing, all is good in the world!