On Sunday, Bryce goes back to school. I know, I can’t believe it either. But, football camp starts and WKU needs their student athletic trainer back. Which means that his bedroom will no longer look like a storage unit and the dishwasher won’t need to be run more than twice a day. It also means that I am going to miss him. (Cue the sigh)
Anyway, last year he didn’t luck out in the roommate department. The first one was disrespectful in terms of smoking a little weed in the bathroom along with texting Bryce not to come back to the room because he had some “company”. I think he learned a lot the first semester and did a great job of setting some boundaries. Praise the Lord, that winner moved out at the beginning of the second semester.
Roommate number 2, was less of an issue because he used the room as a place to leave his stuff and apparently was living with his girlfriend. Whatever. Basically my son had a private room which suited him just fine.
When he was assigned his roommate for this upcoming fall semester, I suggested he reach out to him which resulted in a big, fat “no”. Men. They make everything so difficult. Once we found out his name, I put my journalistic skills of research to work. Bryce is completely annoyed by my investigative skills and calls me a “stalker”. Well, he will understand when he is a parent. What I found, I liked.
This past weekend, the roommate reached out to him. Probably at the suggestion of his mother. I like him already. They chatted about what they were bringing and it turns out that he will be filming for the football team. Nice. Anyway, because I am me, I asked Bryce if they wanted to match bedding and any other accessories. He adores me. Tolerates my weirdness and simply rolls his eyes at my questions. I guess that is a “no” on matching bedding.
My point is that I am hoping third time is charm on the roommate scene. That he can move through the semester with limited drama and maybe form a friendship. In the meantime, I am preparing myself for the departure of my youngest and hoping that I am not a snotty, crying mess when he leaves.