The Philosophy of Roomie

I have always been a devotee of the philosophy of Roomie: wisdom blossoming everywhere. My own knowledge is more like the floral display in my father's garden: random, spindly, and when it is not positively alien-looking, it is desperate and feral.

First profundity of Roomie:

Enter no door when a sprig of the dogwood tree is fastened to the doorknob.

This was our signal, of course, that one of us - myself or my Roomie, my roomate at University - was entertaining a guest. So we exercised discretion and found other things to do for a while, allowing the sweet bird of youth to slake its thirst at the fountain of Eros! (- so to speak.)

I will not say that this happened all that frequently, but one year at the end of Michaelmas term - the Christmas vacation -  when I arrived home and saw the forest of pine swags enveloping the front door of the clan, for a brief moment I thought I was back at University and hesitated lest I interrupt my parents in a tender moment.

I'll have some more wisdom from my old roommate as time goes on.

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