"There's a stranger in my [bed]..." (?!)

Just when I thought that being homeless and living with a hotel for a week and then with a family friend for another was the most interesting and frustrating part of my non-work life in Boston, I moved into my summer sublet. Craigslist, I will never trust you again.

Stranger in my bed, a one-act comedy of errors, by E.Z.

Act I, Scene I: Last night, approximately 9:45PM, in my summer sublet in Cambridge. Strange Brazilian Man (hereafter, SBM) casually lies on bed that was not there when I moved in five hours ago. Thankful to have a bed but utterly confused as to why there is a strange man lying on a bed in my room, among all of my stuff, I metaphorically puff up my chest and ask in my most assertive voice.

Me: "Who are you?"

SBM: "I am Daniel. Ehhhh...who are you?"

Me: "Um...I'm the person paying to live here. I'm Diana's roommate. Are you Diana's friend."

SBM: "No..." (ponders a moment) "Ahhh...yes. Friend. Diana friend."

Me: (Gives quizzical look, but fumes inside, thinking) "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!?"

SBM: (Goofily smiles. But not in a cute way) "Ehhhhh...."

Me: (Grabs clothes and toiletries for the night, stays with mother at hotel near workplace, frantically texts roommate as to who this weird and disappointingly homely man is and how long he is here).

Act I, Scene II: Today, approximately 9:15PM, after running along the Charles, picking up groceries, and going into the room that I have paid to sublet to collect a towel and fresh pair of clothes for after a shower.)

Me (texting something like the following to an assortment of friends): "By the time this weirdo is supposed to leave MY room on Thursday, I think my four walls will have transformed into a Latin American porn den. There is a shirtless man in athletic shorts looking at different women's facebook pages, and alternately listening to dubstep and Brazilian telenovelas. Did I mention that the room smells like a bottle of Axe exploded?"

Act I, Scene III, To be continued...