Wherein I get a bit ranty, and then even out... maybe

I don't think I've been talking about the Kid much here, mainly because it's not terribly interesting to constantly rant about how someone is constantly leaving dirty dishes in the sink, or slamming doors so loudly that it wakes you up, or just generally being a giant, annoying pain in your ass.  I don't think I've ranted about him extensively since this entry, but believe me, it's been there.

The Kid has stopped leaving the door unlocked (though, according to him, it was his GIRLFRIEND'S fault), and he has stopped disturbing my Me Time, mainly because he has finally gotten the hint that we're not going to be best buddies.  Instead, he has glommed onto Tim, the new(er) roommate.  Who is also an inconsiderate jerk.

I worked all summer on the dishes issue with the Kid.  I talked to him about it, but that proved annoying and useless: all he does is apologize and make excuses.  So then I started leaving nasty notes with the dishes, which I would pile on the kitchen table.  They couldn't be missed there.  Everything would be fine for two weeks or so, but then dishes would be left in the sink again, for days on end.  It got to the point where I would enter the kitchen expecting to become immediately enraged.

Finally, last week, in the throes of a nasty bout of PMS, I asked Shon to step in, and he did, immediately.  The Kid said that he left those dishes "to soak," but that he would try to be better about it.

A side note: if you have to soak your dishes for 24+ hours, multiple times a week, you're cooking wrong.

Anyway, this is where it gets AWESOME.  The Kid called Shon, again apologized about the dishes, and then said that he and Tim were bothered about how often I clean up after the cats... which is apparently not enough for them.  Shon relayed this to me, and I sort of went nuclear.  Because EXCUSE ME?  I have never seen Tim lift a finger in this house, unless it is to order take-out and then fall asleep so that the delivery man stands at the door, ringing the doorbell for 5 minutes until I answer it (this has happened more than once).  And I can count on one hand the number of times the Kid has taken out the garbage or bought share items like toilet paper or cleaned anything other than his room.  Every time he puts the dishes away, he leaves half of them on the counter because apparently he doesn't know where they go.  And he definitely can't open up the cupboards and look - that's crazy talk!

So who does the cleaning for the rest of the house?  Who takes the trash out 95% of the time, always takes the bins out to the street every week, always cleans the stove and the counter top and the bathroom?  Who sweeps the floor and dusts?  We must have some sort of magical cleaning fairy!


I told Shon that those two whiners can bitch about the cats when they start helping out with EVERYTHING ELSE.  And I think he agreed with me.

Sorry, that's a lot of CAPS, but seriously, that is some ROOMMATE BULLSHIT right there.

Anyway, I put up "Please don't slam the door" notes on our front door and the main door, and that seems to be working.  Maybe if I can catch up on my sleep and not be awakened several times a night by assholes, I'll calm down a little about everything else.


Poor Owen got his first stitches this weekend - three on the back of his noggin.  He fell on some bleachers and got a gash.  He seems to be handling the stitches pretty well, and hopefully the scar will be a reminder to calm down a little, maybe.  I know, I'm kidding myself.  That boy is crazy.


My friend Ami and I will be going to see Lady Gaga in March, and we are really, really excited!  In unrelated but similarly exciting news, I will be going to a work conference in DC toward the end of the month.  I am actually really excited to ride on an airplane for the first time EVER.  I know, right?  And then I'll get to network and stuff!


tastyskull said…
room-mate stories never get old. I only shared with two other people (as well as my fiance) before we bought a house, but sheesh. That was enough.
The most annoying trait of our first roomie (who was also my fiances friend) was that first of all, when I was cooking dinner for DF and I, he would stand there and watch me cook, and ask me 'what are you guys having for dinner?'. I'd answer, and then there'd be a long pause. 'So what are you having?' I would ask. 'Oh. I don't know.' There would be a pause and he would open the refrigerator to stare at his (empty, I might add) fridge space. Cue the time where I am supposed to offer to cook him dinner too. Ha. Yeah, I don't think so.

The second roomie we had was DF's sister. I know, I have no idea why we picked living with people close to us. It sucked because you could never say anything because you didn't want to risk ruining any friendships.

We decided to have a cleaning roster when we moved in with DF's sister. One week I would vaccuum, the next DF would, then his sister. Unfortunately, she would always leave it for a week, knowing that I couldn't stand a dirty house and that I would do it the next week. And when it was mine or DF's turn to do the dishes, she would decide it was a fantastic time to do some baking, or clean out the fridge. And then when we all moved out of that house, she thought that she wasn't required to clean anything other than take her stuff out of her room, because she was pregnant.

SO glad I do not have to share now, but I still remember the pain. Hang in there. There's always someone who has a worse room-mate.
Literary Auntie said…
Yeah, I moved in with a close friend once - NEVER AGAIN! And I am going to write a book someday about all of the awful roommate experiences I've had. I think it'll sell, because so many other people have bad roomie stories too!

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