My roommate is my grandfather

Living with your grandfather could be more hilarious than anything. (Graphic by Lena Yang)

Living with your grandfather could be more hilarious than anything. (Graphic by Lena Yang)

Some roommates don’t do their dishes. Some roommates bring home strange women at all hours. Some roommates play loud music while you’re trying to study. But my roommate brews his own beer and spends the whole day doing a puzzle. That is because my roommate is my grandfather.

How I came to be in this bungalow in Breslau, a community just outside of Waterloo, are not important except that you must know I was away on exchange and didn’t want to sublet a house for the eight months I was away.  Not wanting to deal with subletting, I moved my things into the small house where my grandfather resides – and now I live here, too. And this is what an average day looks like.

By the time the fish clock on the wall strikes Striped Bass A.M., otherwise known as five o’clock, and the sound of splashing, indiscernible from the rest of the eleven fish, can be heard. Grandpa is already up and making coffee. He makes one pot of coffee and drinks two cups. I keep trying to get him to use my Tassimo, but to no avail. He is a man of habit.

On a regular Saturday, I roll out of bed around Bluegill o’clock (10 A.M.) and make myself a coffee. Then for a little while we both sit and work on the puzzle while the sun shines in the large bay window in the front of Grandpa’s house. Today’s puzzle is called “Bridge Next to Watermill.”

Just as the clock strikes noon, an eccentrically loud and especially nice woman, enters the house to drop off Grandpa’s lunch and talks to us about how her daughter just finished teachers college and wants to hear all about my recent trip to Wales (how on earth does she know?)

At the end of the day, we turn on Wheel of Fortune and watch until after Jeopardy is over, an hour of television. Then, Grandpa starts his nightly routine and goes to bed.

Such is the day in the live of living with Grandpa. He gets a surprising number of visitors for an eighty-eight year old. The house is a constant den for strange characters including his neighbour Joe, who recently said, “If you study history, maybe you can tell me why people are so stupid.” Uncle Donald, who’s Nova Scotian duck toller is the loudest, most excitable dog on the planet and does not match either of the old men’s energies at all.

I certainly can’t say I’m not constantly entertained, but it does make being a wild and crazy student a little difficult.

If I want to drink, I have to make sure I have a place to stay in Waterloo, and I definitely can’t be bringing any girls home. Although I’m sure once Grandpa takes his hearing aids out and goes to bed, I could have a party and he wouldn’t even stir.

I’m sure this year will be an adventure living with ol’ Ed Dunn with a number of unforeseeable challenges, but it’s hard to pass up free room and board and, in all fairness, he always does his dishes.

 Want to live with this guy? Check out the Sh*t  Grandpa Dunn says:

  • “Your dad was going to move to BC with a stripper, but I told him, ‘no way.’” – Turns out she was a waitress and he was going to visit her when he was in BC for a band trip.
  • “I got let into the army because the doctor was piss drunk. They sent me home because I had a bad heart.”

 

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