Living Across Sheldon Cooper

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          It had taken all morning for the furniture to be carried up three floors to my new apartment. The task would have been so much easier and quicker if the elevator of the building hadn’t been out of order. Exhausted, I closed the door behind the movers and turned to gaze around the living room. The whole place was currently a mess. There’s so much that needs to be done! I thought to myself, as I dropped down on to the sofa. It’s going to be a long day! If only I had known how right I was going to be!



          Ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door, followed by someone calling out, “new neighbor?” I had only begun to imagine who on earth it could possibly be, when there was another knock. Followed by another, “new neighbor?” And then another. I hopped onto my feet and made my way to the door. I cracked it open slightly and peered outside.

           Outside my door, there stood a man, in his mid-twenties. He was tall and skinny.
“Hi neighbor!” he exclaimed, his expressions were anything but normal.
“Uh, hello,” I replied.
“I’m Dr. Sheldon Cooper, I live across the hall.” He continued before I could speak. “It is in my understanding that whenever some one new moves into the building, it is my social responsibility to welcome that person with a certain baked goody. Though I have a Master and two PhD’s, I should not have to do this. ” He held out what appeared to be a loaf of bread, wrapped in plastic.

        Awkwardly, I took the bread and thanked him. His mouth twitched an attempt to smile.
“Would you like to come in?” I offered.
He looked over my shoulder, into my obviously messy apartment and shrugged. “No, no, I’d highly prefer we talk in my apartment.” He turned around and began to walk across the hall to his door. I thought for a minute. I was currently bored and in no mood to set up my apartment. What’s the harm? I followed him inside and made my way onto his sofa as soon he asked me to take a seat.

        He let out a yelp. “That’s my seat!”
I stared at him, “So? You can sit anywhere, what’s the difference?”
And so he began. “What’s the difference you ask?” Before I could retreat, he continued, “In the winter that seat is close enough to the radiator to remain warm yet not so close to cause perspiration. In the summer it’s directly in the path of a cross breeze created by opening windows there and there.” He pointed to two locations. I was certainly standing by then.

           “It faces the television at an angle that is neither direct, thus discouraging conversation, nor so far wide as to create a parallax distortion. I could go on but I think I’ve made my point.”
I was now far away from the sofa, and almost at the exit.
“Hey, where are you going?” He inquired.
“Oh I just remembered I have a lot of cleaning to do, my place is a mess!”
“You bet it is. It’s like a pigsty in there! If you start right away, you just might get it done by the end of the year. Oh and make sure the bread isn’t stale. I bought it weeks ago, when I first heard someone was moving in, but you... ”

             I was already across the hall and into my apartment with the door bolted behind me.

       


       



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