Dear Ann Landers, I am a 27-year-old woman currently living in a large house with three roommates -- two male, one female. One of the guys, "Eddie," owns the house.
I think Eddie is obsessive-compulsive. He pastes our names on the silverware so we will know which fork to use. He has assigned us parking spots, even though we have no parking lot and use a public street. He posts a calendar for us to mark off which days we are using the laundry facilities. I once put a mark on the wrong day, and instead of erasing it, he got a new calendar.
I could live with his quirks except for one thing. He often tells me personal, intimate things about his life, including how much he longs for someone special to be with. I get the distinct impression he wants that someone to be me.
Eddie doesn't frighten me, but I'm uncomfortable around him.
I don't want to move out, Ann. The rent is cheap, I have my own room, and the other roommates are great. I cannot afford anything better. The only solution I've found is to work late and spend as much time in my room as possible. Do you have any other suggestions? -- Whacked Out in the West
Dear Whacked, It sounds as if Eddie has some strudel in his noodle. He's a control freak and not about to change. Start looking around for other living quarters pronto, and see if you can find a pal or two to join you.
Dear Ann Landers, I am a male, 49 years old. I lost my wife in an auto accident two years ago, and it has taken me until now to restart my life. A few weeks ago, I put a personal ad online, and one of the responses was from a 45-year-old woman. She seemed to be exactly what I wanted -- pretty, intelligent, independent and with a good sense of humor. The problem is, I think our relationship may be moving too fast.
When I placed my ad online, I had a game plan for finding someone to fill the empty spot in my life. I figured we would get to know each other through e-mail for two months. Then, we would start phoning each other for another month or so. Finally, we would meet for coffee, and if all went well, we would begin to date.
We are way ahead of the game plan. I'm afraid we might be setting ourselves up for a letdown if we move too quickly. I really like this woman a lot and don't want to mess things up, because she could be the one I've been waiting for. I have been trying to put the brakes on, but it's not easy. Please tell me what to do. -- Rich on the Computer
Dear Rich, It appears that you are doing just fine. Follow your instincts, but keep those brakes on. Introduce the woman to family and friends, and get their opinions. I'm hoping those bluebirds will sing for you again.
Dear Ann Landers, I have had this essay for years and thought you might print it so your readers could enjoy it. -- Westminster, Md.
Dear Westminster, Thanks for sending it my way. The dog lovers in my reading audience will appreciate it.
"What Dogs Do for Us"
Catch Frisbees.
Keep a night alone from being truly lonely.
Get us outside on beautiful fall days, rainy days and snowy winter days.
Listen to our singing.
Treat us like celebrities when we come home.
Warm up our beds on cold nights.
Make our hearts more vigorous.
Alert us to the arrival of the mail.
Help us live a little longer.
Make us smile.
Agree with everything we say.
Warm our knees with their chins.
Provide a use for old tennis balls.
Signal when a thunderstorm is coming.
Pull sleds.
Help lower our blood pressure.
Test how fast we can run.
Keep the squirrels from overtaking our yards.
Teach us the meaning of unconditional love.
Dear Ann Landers, I'm tired of those West Coast grouches who think people who live in New York can't tell what time it is. They are angry when they get phone calls at 6 in the morning because some idiot on the East Coast can't figure out the time difference.
Let me tell you what it feels like to be on the other side. When it is 9 p.m. in California, it is midnight in Maine. Strange as it may seem, we "numbskulls" (their term, not mine) are not anxious to chat with the nice folks on the West Coast. Most of us are asleep. We don't like the phone waking us up at such a ridiculous hour, but you don't hear us complaining to Ann Landers.
Tell those sourpusses to try smiling instead. It's wonderful exercise for the face, and it postpones wrinkling. -- Lorraine in Waterville, Maine
Dear Ann Landers, My wife has cancer. We have been battling it for six years, and short of a major miracle, she will die from it. I am not asking for sympathy.
We are living our lives as fully as we can, and we are not shy about discussing all aspects of this battle when it comes to our children, friends and family.
Here is my problem: I find it painful when friends say to her, "Get well soon." It hurts to hear these words. They sound so phony, as if she had a broken leg. My wife will NOT get well, soon or ever, for that matter, and everybody knows it, including her. I haven't said anything about this because I know these people mean well, but it makes me want to scream every time I hear it.
These friends are important to us, and I don't want to offend them by telling them to stop saying that, so I'm hoping if you print my letter, it will help. - Granada Hills, Calif.
Dear Granada Hills, Here's your letter, but it won't help. People are going to continue to say, "Get well soon," no matter what you say, even though they, too, know your wife is terminal. Play the game. The phrase is intended to be comforting.
