I can’t sleep.

The dog has stretched out to occupy the space that normally is occupied by a 2xx lbs., 6′4″ man and is encroaching on my space.

The dog farts and it is vile. So vile, in fact it reminds me of the time, at the old house when late one evening after we’d gone to bed, the dog released some of his noxious fumes. The smoke detector went off. I kid you not! To be safe, we naturally checked the entire house for flame, smoke or other hazard and found no other explanation than the silent, deadly emissions of the dog.

Despite his foul release, I let him stay on the bed, knowing that in his canine dreams he is my knight, my Secret Service agent dog, my protector, ready to alert me should anything be amiss.

In his other, peaceful dreams, when all is well and we’re present and accounted for, the dog is a rap star, stage name, C. Lover.

When asked, I’ll tell you I never wanted a dog. It’s true and ironic that this pain-in-the-ass that was thrust upon me is now my constant companion, my knight (Sir Cloves), my agent (code name Clover), my hip-hop, rap master C.

A friend was relating her college aged kids’ bad roommate stories. I’ve heard bad roommate stories from people for over twenty years and only then did it dawn on me why I had none of my own such stories.

I was the bad roommate.

Following this realization was another such conversation with a group of friends wherein they shared their respective bad roommate stories. As usual, I was silent, thankful that my roommate and I have been out of touch since 1990.

Then, Karen hit us with the roommate story to end all roommate stories. I’m grateful to Karen for e-mailing me with the full story, as she tells it far better than I. Behold:

So here’s the scene: First semester, freshman year, finals week, the night before the Math 10 exam. Stressed? You bet. Will I pass this final? I was still adjusting to being away from home at that point and already on my third roommate of the year (the first two were soooooooo not my fault.)

The roommate at the time was a very sweet, considerate young lady who I will call Rebecca. Only one little problem: she was deeply in denial about an unplanned pregnancy. She had been hiding it very well with baggy sweats and hadn’t been home all semester. Pre-natal care? I don’t think so. I was aware of the situation when I became her roommate and yet I took it on. I’m not sure how I thought this situation would conclude, but I was tickled to have a decent roommate so I threw caution to the wind. (I would like to reiterate, once again, the first two roommates were not my fault.)

Anyway, I was up late studying, but eventually passed out in an algebraic coma. When I awoke that December morning and looked over at my roommate, I found her in quite a state. She hurriedly gathered her blankets around her to hide the evidence of the fact she had gotten ill in the night as a result of labor and panic. I probably said something like, “Are you OK?” and she probably said something like, “Yea, I’m OK.” However, she was clearly not OK. I did what any mature young girl who is away from home, on her own, wise to the ways of the world would have done. I ran out of the room in tears and burst into the room of the seniors across the hall who had known my roommate for some time. “I think something is wrong with Rebecca.” An ambulance was called and my roommate was taken away. She later gave birth to a miraculously perfectly healthy baby girl.

Shortly after the ambulance left, I made my way over to Middlebush Hall (at the University of Missouri) to take my Math 10 final knowing with 99% certainty that no one had had a morning like mine and with far less certainty about how I was going to do on that test. I think I only got a C for that class. If you’re out there, Rebecca, it isn’t your fault. I wasn’t doing that great in Math 10 anyway.

St. Louis: 2,764,050
Charlottesville: 118,398

Dang, I’m still reeling from the difference in size. It is cool to see familiar faces when one goes out around town. Here’s another “why Charlottesville is great and has NOT jumped the shark” story.

Last night, we went to the Albemarle High School production of “Chicago.” My son’s friend is a lead in the show and he, being a student there, knows many of the drama and band kids involved. What was impressive (besides the show, which is great!) is the sold out show, packed with the usual parents and kids but also people from the community who don’t have kids in high school. It was clear that many people knew one another but the outpouring of support from all kinds of Charlottesville folks was very cool to witness.

During my time in St. Louis, I became somewhat of an authority on shopping there. Of course it took years, and concentrated research. With a population of 2,764,054 — oh, I guess now 2,764,050 since we’ve left — there are a lot of shoptions and stuff to see.

Here in Charlottesville, population (including the county) 118,398, there are fewer places to go, but still an impressive array. Will I become the Charlottesville shopping authority? Quite possibly.

Charlottesville manages to have many of the basic stores we like and since retail space is expected to increase 70 percent over the next few years, I predict that soon we’ll have stores like HomeGoods and Kohl’s dotting the shopscape. What’s really great are all the independent and boutique stores here. Forget having a giant mall packed with stuff you can find online. While it’s fun to stroll a mall once in awhile, we don’t need anything bigger than Fashion Square to get us by.

Stores we may never have:

• Nordstrom (this is OK — it’s a fantasy store — love to shop there, never have actually bought anything)
• Pottery Barn
• Sephora
• Neiman Marcus (see Nordstrom x 10. While the incomes of many in the area can afford it, they can shop at the one in D.C. instead.)
• Saks Fifth Avenue
• Marshall Fields
• Build-A-Bear

Seriously, these stores are what make going to NY, Richmond, DC or elsewhere fun. My husband, believe it or not, gave me an excuse to go to West County Mall when I’m in St. Louis next. He said, “Aren’t you dying to go to a real mall?” It will be nice because it’s familiar but I really don’t feel like I’m lacking anything here at home.

My husband surprised me with an early Mothers’ Day gift. It’s so cool, I want everyone to see it in case they’re shopping for Mom’s Day now.
It’s a Teavana Perfect Tea Maker and yes, it makes a perfectly glorious cup. He also gave me some Earl Grey Creme Tea and some Green Mojo Tea. Both are so good I’ve lost count at how many cups I’ve already had. If your mom/wife is a tea drinker this is a great gift!

This is another one of Carmela’s favorite stories.

My mom and dad are fairly conservative people. Just past their sixties, they enjoy active lives in their community. Dad is involved in community theatre (check him out as an extra in Legally Blonde 2) and Mom is involved in the church. Mom prefers G-rated movies, as a rule. She dislikes fiction, and her sense of humor is as clean and upstanding as she is.

The story is a few years old, but it’s one we still remember, and one Carmela brought up not long ago. It goes like this:

My dad’s friend and tennis partner Marvin recommended a movie he’d just seen. He couldn’t remember the name of it, but related a few of the details to my dad . . . whatever he said, my dad remembered: black guy, white guy, conflict . . . that’s it. So after dinner that night, Dad said to Mom, let’s go see a movie. At the theatre, Dad scanned the movie names on the marquee and said, of the Marvin-recommended movie — ah, that must be it. They bought two tickets and went inside.

Ten minutes into the movie, my mom leaned over to my dad and said, “I don’t think this is the movie Marvin recommended.”

They had gone to see this, when they meant to see this.

HA!

It is not only I who blogs about hoosiers. Behold! And yes, of course this is another blogger with St. Louis origins.

So I’m a little disappointed.

We moved in at the end of December and met next-door neighbors whom I’ve described as “the nicest neighbors in the world.”

We were lucky. Too lucky, maybe.

In the last few days, both neighbors on both sides of the StLWorkingMom house have put their houses up for sale.

Do we smell funny?

Naturally, they’re both moving for different, justifiable reasons that have nothing to do with us. The neighborhood is great and the rest of the neighbors we’ve gotten to know on the street and equally nice, fun, interesting people. It’s not like they’re moving away, either, as they’re going just a couple of miles away.

Still . . .

So this is greater impetus for me to get the heck out of the ‘hood and meet some more Charlottesville residents. Looking for a house in a spectacular, safe neighborhood? Shoot me an e-mail and I’ll give you the skinny. That is, if you can stand living next to me.

As long time readers know, I am what I call “freakishly tall.” It’s tough for me to find clothes that fit. As readers of some length also know, I used to be a shopping columnist, then blogger, for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. Since my move to Charlottesville, I’m now an unaffiliated blogger, sometimes writing about shopping.

I instituted a shopping rule for myself a few years ago. Tired of buying clothes that almost fit, I put a limit on my purchases, requiring myself to only buy clothes that were officially “tall” clothes. That, for those vertically challenged, or the off-the-rack shopping blessed, means shopping at J.C. Penney, Eddie Bauer, J.Crew or Land’s End. Not terrible choices, I’ll admit, but I do get awfully tired of my plain Jane wardrobe, my preppy selection and, lacking a sale, sometimes expensive options.

This weekend I sashayed a bit left of my rule.

Marshall’s was having a three-day sale! I stopped in, just to look and came away with some uncharacteristic items. Fortunately, we’re in a season where sleeves can land anywhere between shoulder and wrist and look OK. I stuck with tops and found a charming mint cardigan with a silk print overlay ($17), a short sleeved sheer print blouse in mint and brown ($17) and a mint tank ($13) that will work under either piece.

Sometimes it’s fun to break the rules.

Marshall’s sale is over, but I’ll try to get out in front of the next one and let you know it’s coming! See you there.