In our little room, she has been conferred the title of "man of the house". And I am of course, the lady of the house. Roomie is known as such because she does all the manly things at home. She fixed my wardrobe the last time it fell apart, single-handedly using superglue. On another occasion when my laptop died on me with multiple "blue screens of death", I was so depressed I stayed in bed and wallowed in my sadness. Roomie however, with her undaunted spirit, utilized all her resources to fix it and backed up all my files for me. On top of all that, she is the one who takes the room fan apart, washes it and fixes everything back together again. She is the one who buys hooks and sticks them on the wall so that we can hang up our clock. She is the one who ties ropes across our room to create laundry lines for us to hang our laundry. Today, she broke her own "manly" record - she single-handedly carried a 22kg box of my stuff which I intended to ship back home.
It might be such a random thought, but I realised how I've grown to be so dependent on this girl, and so used to her presence...

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