 |
But when we sat down and realized how much gas money we would burn driving me back and fourth from the GGC campus we realized that-though hard for the both us-living on campus was the best choice for me. My nerves were covered up by my preparation for my new room: picking out the color scheme, buying supplies-which I wouldn't need since I only used a pencil once this whole year-and crocheting a blanket that I would snuggle up to while studying.It was only an hour after my mom left that the homesickness hit me and I realized how close I was to my family. Though I didn't have many friends throughout my childhood and teen years I always had at least one of my siblings at my side.
"Is this what it is like to be an adult?" I wondered, munching on plate of french fries in the dinning hall.
This lowliness would come back from time to time but I would get through it, reminding myself of the love I had waiting for me mere miles away. And though I dread the upcoming three months of no work I am overjoyed to be finally leaving my room mates! Along with learning to except being on my own, manage my time better, and other such things living on campus has also taught me that people can be weird, rude, and absolutely disgusting!
I won't mention their names-mainly because I can't remember them-but believe me when i say that the three girls I roomed with made my life a hygienic hell! Let's start with my roommate who lives in the room right next to mine whom I will call Locks because over her long locks of hair that seemed to want to break me. About a few weeks after she had moved in I started to notice that Locks would leave lumps of her hair in the shower, floor, and even on my clothes.
I don't know how they got their but sure enough every time I put them on I would find at least ten strands woven through the fabric like some disgusting form of embroidery! For the sake of peace I didn't say anything thinking that Locks had yet to realize that she was living with different people and not her family, who I am sure was able to put up with her habits.
But that grace period expired a week later and broke when I came home from the gym and saw the biggest clump of hair sitting in the drain. I was so pissed but decided to wait her out: Eventually she too would get tired of taking an unwanted bath every time she showered and not do it again. A week later it was finally taken out and Locks decided to talk to me about it. But to my surprise it wasn't to say sorry about her lack of home training but to suggest that the strands ruining our plumbing were mine.
Now here's three reason why that statement was complete and utter bullshit:
1: Though thanks to my grandfather and great grandfather my hair is extremely fine it is also extremely dark red and trapped in sister locked coils; a complete opposite to the foot long, straight, and black strands that have been driving me insane.
2: In the two semesters I had lived there never once did the water that sprayed out of that dorm room showered head touch a single lock of my hair since I always kept it cover with a shower cap and-later on when that broke-a plastic grocery bag.
3: Even if by some grace of God so much as a single strand managed to escape from the plastic prison I had trapped it in I wouldn't leave it for her to find because my mother always taught me that to do that would not only be extremely disgusting but announce to the world: I HAVE NO HOME TRAINING!
Did I say this? No. I just smiled through my teeth and went back into my room, fuming over an online hidden object game as she chatted to her family-which I could hear through the paper thin walls-till 12:00 in the morning!
I actually do remember the name of my next roommate but as I said before I won't say it and instead shall call her Febreze, after the air freshener she would merrily spray around the apartment instead of taking the mountain of trash to the shoot right down the hall from our suite. For you to better understand my plight allow me to give you some history:
Along with being the first roommate to arrive in our suite Febreze was also the first bringer of a, normally mundane, object but would become the main source of tension between the four of us: A trash can. Even though they didn't put it on a list of things we needed to bring my college did not provide a trash can for the dorm. Before she had come I'd been using an orange box for a trash can so I was so grateful of Febreze for bringing one for us to use.
It was a week later, as I was working on my math homework, that there was a knock at my bedroom door. On the other side was a fuming Febreze.
"I'm taking the trash can home." She said. "Those other two don't take it out and I am sick of doing it!"
It wasn't till later that I noticed that she only blamed my other roommates and that she most likely said the same thing to them. But at the time I gave her a polite "That's okay" and closed the door.
When I came back after the weekend I brought my own trashcan, a simple white one that sat in the corner of the pantry in doorway. At the time I thought Febreze was just over reacting and that my roommates and I would pitch in and keep the trash empty. God how wrong I was.
It was the tenth time of dragging the ripping trash bags to the shoot I realize that the others had no intention of getting off their asses and keeping the place clean! At first I was going to follow Febreze's lead and take the trash can away but after a talk to my mom I decided to do the same thing I did with Locks and wait it out. Thanks to some spicy food our trash was pretty smelly and would surely be taken out once they saw I put my foot down.
I don't know if they couldn't smell but somehow these girls-and I use that term extremely lightly-would let this trash pile up at least three feet above the rim before they would cave in and take it out! It was no skin off my back since I retreated into my room the second I got back from class but they would be having friends and classmates over, sitting mere inches from the Mt Ever-stank looming in the corner. After about the fifth time this cycle happened Febreze came up to me and asked why I haven't taken out the trash.
After getting over the shock that she could in fact smell I said: "Well, excuse me if I sound rude, but why don't you take it out?"
"Because that is you and your roommates job."
Now like most people I had a voice in my head and when I heard that comment the voice screamed: BITCH, YOU ARE MY ROOMMATE! I'm not related to you, by blood or marriage, but since I am sharing the same living space with you that makes you my roommate=YOU NEED TO TAKE OUT THE DAMN TRASH.
But of course on the outside I was like:
One of the greatest things about summers is that I won't have to deal with Febreze again nor Ghost. Oh, Ghost is my third roommate. I call her that because all throughout the year I would rarely see her. Oh the music from her room and the cartons of food in the fridge would tell me she was there but I can only count six times I have witnessed her physical manifestations. She gave me the less stress but I would have appropriated if she would have helped me with Febreze and not put her babies dirty diaper in the full trash when she visited.
Though Locks, Febreze, and ghost drove me up the wall through out my first year they did teach me that I needed to speak up more. By taking the silent rout I was only making our problem's worst, something that I won't do next year.
http://seattlesportsnet.files.wordpress.com/2013/11/anchorman-celebration-gif.gif
No comments:
Post a Comment