Dirty dishes. Open food containers. Trash and messes and more trash. This is life with my roommate. Spooky, huh? Without exaggeration, daily questions are as follows: "Are you done with this empty soda can? Can I throw away this plate of food? Will you bring me that bowl from the couch so I can wash it? Take all of this to your room!" I love this girl, we just have very different lifestyles. After a year of living alone, she had become accustomed to being the only one existing in her living conditions, and after a summer of working as cleaning staff at summer camp, I could list multi-purpose cleaning products in order of most to least efficient. When I moved in with her at the beginning of this year, our two worlds collided like water and oil and created a living nightmare. Everyone has trouble with messy roommates sometimes, but the first few weeks of my sophomore roommate experience were more like a horror film than reality. Next time you're struggling with your roommate's mess, read these scary stories to remind yourself that it could be worse:
1. The Box
It all started with a box. One innocent cardboard box that my roommate received in the mail, emptied, and sat in the corner of the living room to eventually be recycled. Then came another box. And another. And another. Soon a pile of cardboard boxes, bubble wrap (the obnoxious kind you have to pop with scissors), tissue paper, and packing tape had stacked up beside the TV. Every time she passed it, she added something new to this growing monstrosity in the center of our house. Then came the box. The holy grail, the box to end all boxes - a four by four. It came to the front door containing a reading chair, but did not leave soon after. No. Instead, my roommate put all the collected trash inside of the mega-box, and it became the designated recycling center for the next two months. By the time I moved in, mega-box was filled to the brim. Soda cans. Glass bottles. Cardboard. Plastic. Pounds and pounds of garbage all sitting in the smack middle of the living room like an obnoxiously large decoration. It wouldn't even fit in a dumpster, much less out the door. A few tears, a "We can't live like this," and two hours of breaking down cardboard later, seven trash bags of recyclables had made their way to the public recycling center fifteen minutes away from our house. The box is gone but never forgotten. Every now and then, a little piece of cardboard will be sitting by the TV when I get home. I'm not kidding when I say it's out the door upon sight. Sometimes, repeating history is scarier than the actual event.
2. The Living Room Trash
Everyone misses garbage day every once in a while. We get distracted, forget to put the bin by the road. It happens. But what would it look like if you forgot garbage day every week…for a month? Well, I can testify because I lived through it. Moving in naturally generates a lot of trash. Tags off new products, unpacked boxes, and so on. After moving in, I had some bags that I needed to take out. When I walked downstairs, I noticed that there were already three bags of trash sitting side by side in the kitchen. I was a little peeved, but figured that she hadn't gotten around to taking them out. When I asked for some help taking the collective six bags out to the garbage can, however, I received dreadful news. The garbage can was full. Trash had not been picked up since the beginning of the last month, and the truck would not be coming again until Friday. It was Sunday. She promised me she would take the bags to a public dump and throw them out. I gave her two days. Nothing happened. To make matters worse, there was old food in all of the bags, and, as I soon figured out, dog poop in one. When the kitchen began to smell, I was at the end of my rope. I loaded the bags into my car, rolled the windows down, and drove to the dump. That day, my roommate returned home and immediately asked "Where'd our trash go?" Honestly, at that point, the possibility of it growing legs and walking out the door wasn't too far out there.
3. Buried Alive - The Counter
Storage spaces exist for a reason - they hide the things, like dishes and food, that you'd rather not have on display. My roommate, however, has an unofficial policy that the stove, kitchen table, and countertops also serve as a storage unit and simultaneously as a temporary trash can. The first day I walked in the door after she'd been living there all summer, I was taken aback. Was that a countertop, or a giant shelf? Empty soda cans, open bags of chips, coffee filters, liquor bottles, Tupperware containers, sink full of dishes, mugs, cups, bowls, plates crusted in food, uneaten meals, rags, cutting boards and crumbs lined every inch of our counter space. On the kitchen table was a similar situation - papers, purses, bags, pens, clothing, and more was piled on, making the space absolutely useless. Immediately, I was overwhelmed. I spent the day cleaning out that kitchen. Throwing away spoiled food, prying crusted oatmeal off bowls, carrying piles of clothes to her room. By the next day, the deed was done. Pantry organized, cabinets full. The scary part is that it's nowhere near over. Just because the kitchen changed doesn't mean my roommate did. Every day is a battle. A hard-fought battle.
*The stories above are based on true events*
The minimum wage is not a living wage.
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