the m word

So, one of the downsides of working nights is that I never see my roommates. I get home at 4am and collapse into bed and by the time I'm up they've left for work and I won't be home again until they've long since gone to bed. So back at the beginning of December I didn't even notice when Max, my Ghanaian roommate, went home to visit his mum until he had been gone for a week. Even then, I wouldn't have even noticed that he was gone execpt that someone remarked that I must be enjoying having the apartment to myself (my other roommate, a wonderful guy from the phillipines, is home even less than I am. He spends 5 nights a week at his brother's house). So when Max got back from Ghana I continued to not see him for days at a time. No big deal.
Well, this morning, as I was on my way to work I ran into a friend of mine. She told me she was on her way to my house to see Max.
Me: "Oh, he's at work."
Her: "ummm...no, I'm pretty sure he's home. They only let him out of the hospital yesterday."
Me: "..."
Her: "You knew he was in the hospital right?"
Me: "..."
Her: "He was there for three days."
Me: "..."
Her: "He's your room mate! Don't you ever see each other?"
Obviously not.
So I finally found out that my roommate, upon returning from Ghana, had come down with a little case of malaria and they locked him up in the hospital for a few days. And I know how much fun being malarial and hospital bound in Israel can be, having suffered the same fate during a brief trip through Haifa in 2001. No fun. Although the russian speaking nurses are entertaining.
So anyway, what kind of a crap room mate am I?
Especially after I tell you that I had stuck my head into the kitchen this morning trying to locate the source of a particularly offensive smell and determined that it wasn't my mess so I'll be damned if I'm going to clean up after him. I'm going straight to room mate hell.
But I've heard that Max is doing fine and probably won't even cough on me when I get home later tonight. Or release a flock of malarial mosquitos in my room. Maybe I'll sing him the malaria song... my sister might have to help me remeber all the words. I get lost after "...nacho cheese doritos..."