Everything I Need to Know I Learned from Dungeons & Dragons (26 page)
Read Everything I Need to Know I Learned from Dungeons & Dragons Online
Authors: Shelly Mazzanoble
When we got home that night, Zelda's litter box was ransacked and what was left of the contents were scattered over the living room. Zelda glared at us from the couch while Sadie cowered in the corner of the dining room.
“Oh, look,” Bart said. “Sadie is helping with the chores. She cleaned out Zelda's litter box.”
“That's cool. Maybe next we could teach her to do laundry or empty the dishwasher?”
But the worst was waiting for me in the bedroom. There on my beloved duvet cover sat a blue towel. A towel that was presumably wet when it landed there this morning. A blue, presumably wet towel that has sat on my beloved duvet cover for more than nine hours.
Nine hours!
What the hell? I mean, seriously? I've asked him how many times to simply hang up his towel when he's done with it. It isn't rocket science! It isn't curing cancer! It isn't â¦Â a big deal? Standing there glaring down on the stupid towel I realized something monumental. The house was still standing. The animals were still alive (although one might have an upset stomach considering how much litter and kitty poo she ingested),
the duvet cover was fine, and most important, we were fine. Bart and I were
just fine.
And then I had my second startling discovery in a four-second period of time. But this discovery was so alarming that even a toothpaste-splattered mirror couldn't hide what was in plain sight:
I
am
a controller.
A controlling, meddling displacer beast who makes big freakin' mountains out of potential mildew. And I made the people I loved feel bad in the process.
That
, I thought, was much worse than a wet towel on a duvet cover.
So, okay, we'll probably need to figure out a better place to keep Zelda's litter box and, yeah, Bart could use a brown basket or two and I have one less pair of shoes, but that's fine, too. I needed to make more room in the closet, anyway. And why bother having a pair of overpriced shoes that you only wear on special occasions? What's the fun in that? Sadie is a dog. Dogs do these things. Bart is a human being. A ridiculously patient, mellow and forgiving human, but still. And Zelda? Well, Zelda is a cat and there's not much you can do about that.
Instead of making Sadie a monster, I remembered the things she was really good at, like protecting me from that man in the electric wheelchair who tried to run me down in a crosswalk. And taking the rap for knocking over the glass of red wine on Bart's area rug. (She later peed on it, but it was still cool of her to cover for me.) She and I shared the best naps of our lives when it was twenty degrees
inside
last winter and we slept on Bart's cold leather couch wrapped up in my Snuggie.
Thinking back to our afternoon D&D game and what Bart said about all of us having our roles made me realize Tabitha and I had a lot in common. I, too, had the perfectly rounded out party: a striker (Zelda), defender (Sadie), leader (Bart), and controller (duh).
Bart came into the bedroom and found me zoning out, staring at the towel.
“Oh, no,” He ran to the bed and grabbed the towel. “I'm so sorry. I can't believe I forgot that.”
“I don't care anymore,” I announced. “Not about the shoes or the towels or what hangers you use. I just want you to be happy here. I'm sorry I overreacted.”
“It's okay, Buddy,” he said. “And you have a right to be irritated. Your space is being invaded by two slobbery, sloppy, boundary-breaking beasts. There's an adjustment period for sure.”
“I've been such a bitch,” I lamented. “I can't believe you put up with me.”
He laughed. “Honestly, I have nowhere to go.”
The following Saturday, I woke up to find Sadie had knocked over Bart's laundry basket and his clothes had exploded from it like an alien embryo
from its human host's belly. But that was five days ago. The pile was growing. I gathered up the clothes and tossed them back in the hamper.
“I'll start the laundry,” I said.
Bart was having breakfastâtwo slices of extra crispy toast and a smoothie. “Don't use the shower yet,” he said. “I just caulked it and need to hang some protective plastic so it doesn't get wet.”
“Well, aren't you fancy?” I said, pointing to the martini glass he was drinking the smoothie from. “Are your friends from
Sex and the City
coming over for breakfast today?”
He laughed and looked sheepish. “We're out of glasses again.”
“Oh, well,” I said, filling up a bud vase with water and taking my daily vitamin.
Well-rounded parties are worth their weight in gold coins. Well-rounded living situations are even more valuable. Can you imagine living with two controllers?
You hung your towel up wrong.
No, you hung your towel up wrong.
Yeah. No, thank you. Everyone knows there's only one right way to hang a towel. If you have trouble relating to your roommate, significant other or otherwise, maybe it would help to understand each other's roles and, subsequently, how to play nice with each other.
STRIKER
:
It's always the quiet ones.â¦
You think you lucked out with this one, huh? They're sweet, seemingly accommodating, probably have an awesome DVD collection. They're usually peaceful and calm, clean up after themselves, and always pay the bills well in advance of their due dates. They probably still use actual checks instead of autopay. Charming, right?
Wrong. When a striker goes on the offense you never see it coming. They blow up faster than a helium balloon. You might think their freak-outs are out of the blue, but really they're calculated and targeted. Watch your back. And pretty much anything valuable you own.
Sample striker roommates: Jennifer Jason Leigh's character in Single White Female, cats.
LEADERS
:
In theory leaders are nice people to have around as they spend much of their time trying to boost your confidence, make you look good, and tell you how incredibly awesome you are when you're down. What's bad about that? Well, imagine if your confidence is fine right where it is, you think you look fine, and you already know how awesome you are. Too bad! Leaders like to feel needed. If you don't
have a problem they can fix they'll create one and presto! Now you have two problems. It's a vicious circle with these types.
Sample leader roommates: Dr. Phil, Judy, dogs.
DEFENDER
:
Ugh. I lived with a defender freshman year in college. She was a beautiful tomboy who showed up late on move-in day with a nanny whom she ordered around in German. She wore steel-toe boots and flannel shirts (so Seattle, yet so far away) and greeted the guys in our dorms with swift kicks to the groin. Can someone please tell me what question I answered incorrectly on my housing placement form for Ithaca College to think we were a good match?
Don't get me wrong, we had our fun, but our dorm room was not the room you wanted to hang out in. Defenders aren't exactly the welcoming committee. If you find yourself on the lease with one, feel free to throw out those barbeque tongs and plastic forks. You're probably not hosting the next bash.
Sample defender roommates: Mel Gibson, European football fans, soccer moms.
CONTROLLER
:
Oh, come on, controllers aren't that bad, are we? I mean, they?
Sure, they live up to their name and like to control their environments. Some do this with mass-affecting area bursts of acid, flames, or cucumber-scented bathroom cleaner. Some do this by insisting on using a specific type of hanger. Regardless, controllers have the unique ability to affect an entire room with their moods. If you find yourself sharing fridge space with a controller, do yourself a favor and delete shows off the DVR after you watch them and hang up your coat when you come home. Please?
Sample controller roommates: Gallagher, Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory, cats unhappy with their current living situation.
me:Â Â Â Oh, like the last time you told me to do a Google search to find out what that white stuff was that came out of your salmon? I almost got sent to HR when my co-worker saw those pictures!
judy: You really need to loosen up. Come on, tell Mommy what's wrong.
me:Â Â Â It's awful. Possibly insurmountable.
judy: I wonder if it's too late to get those books back from Jodi.â¦
me:Â Â Â We were out to dinner, having a perfectly nice time, when this family gets seated next to us. Why adults bring kids to restaurants is beyond me.
judy: So they can eat?
me:Â Â Â But they can eat at Subway or Red Robin or even Old Spaghetti Factory if it's a special occasion. Those places welcome kids. They even let them eat free sometimes. This was a nice Italian place. Tablecloths and everything!
judy: Seems almost too fancy for you two people who drink beer out of shoes, but go on.
me:Â Â Â It's called a boot, and it's German, and it's not an actual shoe. Google it.
judy: Dare I?
me:Â Â Â So these babies are like four and five.
judy: Babies?
me:Â Â Â And they start playing this game where the floor is water and their chairs are life rafts or something.
judy: Sounds right up your alley.
me:Â Â Â And the little girl baby is all “Helllllp meeeeeeeee, I'm falling in the waaaaaaaaaaaaatttterrrrrrrrrrrr!” and then she tumbles out of chair and starts screaming her face off.
judy: Was she hurt?
me:Â Â Â No! She was acting. Pretending to drown! First of all, what kind of game is that?
judy: Hmm, I seem to remember you and your brother playing Bonnie and Clyde. I'd say pretending to drown is on par with acting like mass-murdering bank robbers.
me:Â Â Â Whatever. But in a restaurant? So the brother starts screaming, too, and tries pulling the sister back on her chair.
judy: Admirable. Mike would have let you drown.
me:   And the whole time the parents are just sitting there sharing a Caesar salad and sipping their Chianti and offering the occasional, whisper of, “Kids ⦔ I mean, really? Just a softly spoken “kids” as a means of discipline? As if reminding them of what they are will shock the a-hole behavior out of them?
judy: You can't call kids a-holes! They're kids!
me:Â Â Â Oh, please, you're as bad as Bart!
judy: Right. What was this horrible, insurmountable thing he did?
me:Â Â Â He laughed! Like it was
cute
or something.
judy: Unforgiveable!
me:Â Â Â These kids were downright annoying and clearly not being parented! And yes, I am turning into you because I caught myself doing those loud sighs you tend to do when you're irritated and want to passive-aggressively let the cause of your irritation know.
judy: I seldom get irritated anymore. I just let everything roll right off my back because I believe it's happening for a reason.
me:Â Â Â Please. I was on the phone with you when that “minivan-driving highway Nazi asshat” took your parking space.
judy: So Bart has more patience than you do. Big deal.
me:Â Â Â It is a big deal and here's why. Not only was he unfazed by the kids' unruly behavior but he said he wished he could play, too. He said, “Kids get to have the most fun. Anytime. Anywhere.”
judy: That can't surprise you. You bought him Legos for Christmas.
me:Â Â Â That wasn't the surprising part. The look on his face was what surprised me. It was almost
wistful.
Like he enjoyed the noise and chaos of those kids.
judy: Not everyone breaks out in hives and develops stomach upset at the sight of Thomas the Train like you do.
me:Â Â Â So I have no choice but to ask him. âBart, do you actually
like
kids?' And he says â¦Â Oh, God, it's too painful. I can't say it.
judy:
Tell me!
me:Â Â Â He said, “Sure!” Turns out Bart fancies himself a dad someday.
judy: Yay, Bart! I like him more and more.
me:Â Â Â Please. You just like what he represents: The Holy Grailmother.
judy: Didn't you guys ever talk about having kids? I thought it might have come up somewhere between your third date and talking about moving in together.
me:Â Â Â Well, yeah, but in abstract terms. Like when we're both lying on our respective couches and too lazy to get up we say things like “If we had a kid, we could make him get us a couple of beers and a bag of chips right now.”
judy: I think you'd be a wonderful mother. You learned from the best.
me:Â Â Â Did I? Hmm, I don't remember her. Maybe I could Google her sometime.
judy: You're an a-hole.
me:Â Â Â Hey! I thought we weren't supposed to call kids a-holes!
judy: I'm a mother. We make the rules and we can break the rules. You should try it sometime.
