I have a fantastic roommate.
Before you go to college, all of your well-meaning friends (mostly the older ones) counsel you to not expect to be best friends with your roommate. "You'll just live with them," they say, "so it's a businesslike arrangement." You're told to be reasonable in what you think your roommate will be like.
The Residence Life Office here matches up students well, taking into account their likes and dislikes, circadian rhythms, even their Myers-Briggs results. Even so, I was not positive that they would do a decent job. I was quite afraid that I would end up with someone whose loud, wanton ways would drive me crazy.
Then I met Sarah, my amazing roommate. We are highly compatible -- her F type complements my T -- and she has an incredible ability to overlook my more atrocious caprices, like my very noisy coffeemaker and tendency to strew my clothes everywhere. Every day we discover ways in which we are similar, sometimes reading the other one's mind, but we also learn the ways in which we deviate -- and we definitely have our differences.
Besides her high tolerance level for my nonsense, Sarah is also very creative, making beautiful cards for people on their birthdays and covering the walls of our room with her calligraphic brilliance. When we got back from the Christmas holiday, she presented me with my gift: a recipe box.
[It is not crooked. I just can't take normal pictures.]
Not only did she paint the box with a fantastic goddess/fairy/muse/nymph, she wrote Rensad ryn adin on the cover. I was so dumbstruck by the gift that Sarah had to remind me that rensad ryn adin was from the language I created. The phrase means "to eat and to drink" in Pannat.
I can't thank Sarah ever enough -- not just for the beautiful recipe box, because her friendship extends way beyond that -- for her gracious spirit, her charming presence, her perfect advice, and her enduring patience. This post is thus dedicated to her and her wonderful self.