A Good Deed Never Goes Unpunished

Sarah’s birthday was this past week, and since her parents have finished the interstate move, Sarah couldn’t go home to her friends for summer vacation. I knew this was going to happen , so I contacted her sister in advance to plan a surprise party for her.

For the month before her birthday, I surreptiously asked the right questions to extract the information I needed: what kind of cake she liked, if she and her family were doing anything, etc. I ordered a book on shoes and personal style that I knew she’d love (since shoes are her favorite things in the world).

Sarah had met my friends from high school on various occasions and we had a lot of fun together, so I invited several of them to be the guests at her party, hoping she would now have automatic friends from in-state.

On the day of her birthday, I went to pick up her cake at a ridiculously good bakery that my mom recommended. I meticulously wrapped her present (admittedly, mainly because I enjoy wrapping presents) and packed it into a bag with napkins and a cake knife.

My friends and I crammed into my car with her cake and gift, and we headed over to her new house. Sarah’s sister and mom knew I was coming and giddily opened the door for me. We all rushed in and surprised her. We sang happy birthday and enjoyed the scrumptious cake together. Then we “kidnapped” her and cleared out of her house so her early-sleeper parents could go to bed while we could have more fun.

Turns out that Sarah did not like that. Afterward, I found out that she did not appreciate the party, the cake, the book, the planning that went into it, or my friends’ efforts to make her day special. Maybe she really hates surprises, but I feel like she at least shouldn’t be acting pretty bitterly toward me since then.

I guess I deserve it, for being the only one of her friends to do something for her. None of her old friends called her or anything on her birthday, so I guess that makes me a pretty crappy person for trying to make her transition to a new place easier.

New Lease

Since it is nearing the end of the school year, we are re-newing our lease with our landlord. I want to change roommates, but the apartment is too nice to let go of. When we first signed the lease, our landlord required a parent to be the master tenant since we are all students, and of course, my mom was the one that stepped up. I won’t lie–my mother did not want to at first, but I convinced her that it only made sense for the one parent in-state (even though my landlord accepts master tenants from outside the country) to be the one in communication with my landlord.

Neither of the Sara(h)s’ parents said a word but when they ran into my mom while we were moving in, they thanked her profusely for taking on the responsibility. Their gratitude seemed pretty insincere (surprise, surprise); instead, they seemed pretty happy not to be the ones responsible for any liabilities we as a household could incur.

Our lease originally started June 10, but since the Sara(h)s are from out of state, they wanted to store their things in the apartment as soon as the school term ended. In order to hold the apartment from the end of school until June 10, our landlord charged us the full month instead of the pro-rated rate.

Of course, Sarah’s cheap mother backs out and refuses to let Sarah “move in”, despite her things being in the apartment already, so instead of dropping the apartment my mom steps in and pays Sarah’s part of the rent. Obviously my mother could have said no, dropped the lease since the terms changed, and found me a different place. But she understood how difficult it was to find a place so close to campus that she paid my nurse-hating roommate’s rent in order for all of us to keep the apartment.

It’s been a year and I haven’t told either Sara or Sarah how my mom saved our butts out of respect for Sarah’s financial situation since her parents just moved across the country to be closer to her. But her complete lack of disrespect for my family and me really makes me want to call her out on it. I think I am a masochist for continuing to live with them.

Tree Hugging Gas Guzzler

Sarah’s student action organization just hosted an event on campus to promote alternative energy. It was pretty creative: they rented out solar panels, used them to power blenders, and charged $2 for a “solar smoothie”. I loved the idea and enthusiastically plugged it to all my friends. A bunch of us went to their table during our lunch break to support the cause. I must commend Sarah’s dedication to raising awareness about the environmental issues that will affect our future.

However, sometimes I get a little confused by her lifestyle. Perhaps it is no fault of her own, since she comes from a state where driving huge SUVs are encouraged, but I figured that after preaching to everyone the importance of conserving energy and reducing greenhouse gasses, Sarah would give up her SUV and other wasteful activities.

She hasn’t. In fact, when her family moved here, they brought along their three cars (all huge gas guzzlers that don’t really fit in driveways). Sarah also neglects to turn off the lights when she leaves a room, and many times I have come home to the TV blaring in an empty apartment.

On the other hand, she encouraged our house to start composting, which we quickly agreed to do. Sarah brought home a little compost bucket that we put our food scraps into, and a composter is supposed to come pick it up along with the trash every week. Unfortunately, she forgot to mention that she hadn’t signed our apartment up for this weekly pickup… so our compost bucket has been rotting out on the street for two weeks now. And of course, she refuses to get her perfect hands dirty by emptying it out. I’ll let you know when someone (and I flat out refuse to do it for her this time) gets on it.

Maybe I’m Wrong

Sometimes I wonder if I’m too harsh toward the Sara(h)s. This past week, they have both been very supportive in different ways.

When Sara saw me really upset because I got into a fight with one of my best friends from high school, she put down her things and came over to ask me what was wrong and hugged me while I told her about our fall out.

And after a clumsy moment on moving day in August, I had snagged a toenail on something and it ripped completely off. Since then, a new and fragile nail has been growing in and becoming rather painful as it digs into my skin. Sarah, with her medical background (haha) and lack of aversion to such things, helped me put cotton between the nail and my skin and wrapped it up in a bandage for me.

It’s times like these that I really feel like they’ve accepted me into their tight-knit circle.