Signs and Symptoms That You’re the Man of the House

Another year brings a slew of new things.

New classes, new books, new professors, new clothes and even a new place to live.

This year has also brought me something great in the form of a recurring roommate (Brix) and a new roommate (Rock).

I love my roomies and they are so great at so many things, but one giant fact has become abundantly clear:

I am the man of the house.

Living in my very own place with two other girls has really shown me that it is just so much better to have a guy or at the very least the luxury of calling physical plant to fix things for us; because now it all falls on me. How can I be so sure that I’m the dude in this scenario?


Any time that anyone needs something hung up on the wall somewhere, they knock on my door and ask: “do you  have a hammer?”

Need something painted: “Maz do you know where the painter’s tape is?”

There’s a bug in their room: “Oh my god! Ew, I need you to come handle this RIGHT NOW.”

Bills to be paid: “Can you figure it out and just tell me how much I owe?”

Something to be reached on the top shelf: “Maz, can you grab that for me? You’re so much taller.” (By maybe three inches…)

I’ve somehow turned into Mr. Fix-It, Mr. Kill-It and Mr. Pay-It, all in the short time span of one month.


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