I live with two roomies, a couple, GuyRoomie (Approx. 35yrs old, divorced 2 kids), and GirlRoomie (25 not quite divorced yet, no kids). And they are SLOBS.
I've been gone for 4 months. You'd think they would've cleaned the downstairs bathroom at least once while I was gone. No such luck. There was actually MOLD growing in the toilette. Freakin disgusting.
Since I've gotten home, I've spent a lot of time cleaning. Now I'm not a neat freak by any means. I have a small bedroom and it tends to be a bit cluttered. I can be untidy, I leave my school stuff and jacket lying around from time to time. I am not DIRTY however. While I can live with clutter and untidiness I cannot live with DIRT. Dirt is my enemy.
So the Roomies are at the cottage all week which means that thankfully they are not undoing all of my cleaning efforts. However, they have neglected some things far too long (ie downstairs bathroom.) In fact I was horrified when I opened the dishwasher on Tuesday to find it full of dirty dishes. They left for the cottage on Sunday. SERIOUSLY!?!? Who leaves the house for a week and leaves dirty dishes in the dishwasher?!? And not just a few cups and a plate, no it was FULL. It was ready to be turned on, just needed some soap and turn the dial. Like WTF people? What the hell is wrong with you?
Since I've been home I have cleaned my room, which my Roomies thoughtfully left open to the two cats for the past 4 months (I'm allergic btw), the downstairs bathroom (which I am the primary user of) and the kitchen (including the microwave which I don't think has EVER been cleaned,) the stovetop and the floor. I would very much like to tackle the oven (freakin gross man!) but I lack any EasyOff at the moment, and the fridge but I'm afraid if I throw anything out the Roomies will get mad at me. And I'd like to tackle the front room, but unfortunately the big table which is in there is covered in their stuff and I have no idea where to put it.
So I have a dilemma. I want to talk to the Roomies about this. About how it's driving me nuts and how I seem to be the one doing major clean up every month or so because they can't be bothered to just do a little bit every day and how I'm not the one who cooks and leaves food out (they left food int he crockpot for a week once, A WEEK!), or dirty dishes etc. I'm not the one who piles boxes of empty beer bottles on the back porch, and I'm not the one who forgets EVERY WEEK to put the garbage and recycling out. And don't even get me started on the state of the back yard! (You remember in Jumanji when the vines and trees start growing in the house like everywhere? THAT'S what the backyard looks like!)
However, GirlRoomie owns the house. It's her house and I'm just a tenant. It's probably not kosher for me to tell her how to live in her own house. But the honest truth of it is that I don't know how much longer I can stand this and I may have to move out if things don't improve. And I know how much she likes my rent money. In addition to that, their uncleanliness is going to make them and me literally SICK. Not to mention GuyRoomie's kids that spend the weekend here every so often. There is MOLD in places where there shouldn't be MOLD. We have an ANT problem (duh). And there are so many DUST BUNNIES and cat hair TUMBLEWEEDS around I want to wear shoes all the time. Not to mention that the cats track kitty litter granules all over the place. It's GROSS! I HATE IT!
How do I bring this up tactfully without pissing them off? How do I get my point across without flying into a rage? I cannot just let it go and do nothing! I will go insane!
Showing posts with label roomies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label roomies. Show all posts
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Homeward Bound
Home is where the heart is. Home is wherever you lay your head. home is where mom's house is. Home is where you grew up. Home is wherever you end up. Home is where your stuff is.
To me, home is where it SMELLS like home. I know it sounds weird. Home has a smell? Yes, it does. And I haven't smelled it in nigh on 10 years now.
What does home smell like? I really couldn't tell you. I don't have words to describe it because it doesn't smell like anything else. It just smells like home.
If I haven't smelled it in 10 years, how will I know it when/if I find it again? I don't know, I just will.
Smell is linked to memory in the most profound way. I remember what home smells like, like I remember someone's cologne. And just as when I smell that particular cologne and I remember that specific person, so it will be when I smell home again. My memories will come flooding back.
I've called many places home over the past 10 years. But only one has come close to my olfactory memory. I have lived in 7 different apartments in the past 10 years. All of them had a particular scent.
There was the first one. The two bedroom with hardwood floors and that bathroom so small you could take a leak, wash your hands and shave your legs in the tub all at the same time. (Can't say I ever did that though.) It was on the seedy West side, a block or so from a strip joint and behind one of those little Asian markets which contained untold wonders inside. It smelled like stale cigarettes and age. I moved to the apartment next door after a little while. It was cheaper, being a one bedroom. There was a leak in the ceiling inside one of the kitchen cabinets. Water from the apartment upstairs would trickle through a leaking pipe, filter down through layers of insulation and most likely asbestos to be collected in a little bucket and disposed of daily. Because of this the whole place had this sticky-sweet scent, musty and damp, and utterly gross. There was also a mouse, which lived quiet happily thanks to my ineffectual cat.
Apartment number three was down right rank. My aging dog who ate anything you happened to leave lying around (including pop cans, I think she thought she was goat trapped in a dog's body) was responsible for that. Fourteen year old dogs have the bladder and bowel control of new puppies, without the cuteness. I did my best, but it was quite rank.
After a few months of that and the inevitable death of my beloved childhood pet, I moved into a small one bedroom basement apartment. Small is an understatement really. My friends on the taller side of the spectrum had to duck in many places and my boyfriend couldn't stand upright in the shower.
After the little dungeon, I moved into the tower. I took the loft bedroom on the 3rd floor of a duplex which my FakeBro and his wife lived in. They were having money issues and had the extra space so I moved in to help them out. Me and my 4 cats. Living with their 3 cats, 1 dog and various other caged animals. My room did not smell good. 'Nuff said.
The tower made way to the walk-up. A very tiny 2 bedroom on the 3rd floor of a 100 year old building...with my boyfriend at the time. Who had a lot of stuff so I had to get rid of mine of course. That one smelled of food, all the time. Which was my fault of course cause I was cooking constantly (I was in culinary school at the time.) That place smelled awesome! But not like home.
The latest place I call home smells pretty good most of the time. I share a 3 bedroom house with my GirlRoomie and her boyfriend. My room smells like sandalwood, cause I burn the stuff all the time. The kitchen area generally smells like whatever vegetarian mush the Roomies are cooking (or had cooked 3 days ago and left out on the counter, yeah, they're slobs.) It's not tooo bad, but still not a winner.
The only one that came close was the tiny basement apartment. I was there for quite a while and though it was small, it was cozy.
It invariably reeked of me.
To me, home is where it SMELLS like home. I know it sounds weird. Home has a smell? Yes, it does. And I haven't smelled it in nigh on 10 years now.
What does home smell like? I really couldn't tell you. I don't have words to describe it because it doesn't smell like anything else. It just smells like home.
If I haven't smelled it in 10 years, how will I know it when/if I find it again? I don't know, I just will.
Smell is linked to memory in the most profound way. I remember what home smells like, like I remember someone's cologne. And just as when I smell that particular cologne and I remember that specific person, so it will be when I smell home again. My memories will come flooding back.
I've called many places home over the past 10 years. But only one has come close to my olfactory memory. I have lived in 7 different apartments in the past 10 years. All of them had a particular scent.
There was the first one. The two bedroom with hardwood floors and that bathroom so small you could take a leak, wash your hands and shave your legs in the tub all at the same time. (Can't say I ever did that though.) It was on the seedy West side, a block or so from a strip joint and behind one of those little Asian markets which contained untold wonders inside. It smelled like stale cigarettes and age. I moved to the apartment next door after a little while. It was cheaper, being a one bedroom. There was a leak in the ceiling inside one of the kitchen cabinets. Water from the apartment upstairs would trickle through a leaking pipe, filter down through layers of insulation and most likely asbestos to be collected in a little bucket and disposed of daily. Because of this the whole place had this sticky-sweet scent, musty and damp, and utterly gross. There was also a mouse, which lived quiet happily thanks to my ineffectual cat.
Apartment number three was down right rank. My aging dog who ate anything you happened to leave lying around (including pop cans, I think she thought she was goat trapped in a dog's body) was responsible for that. Fourteen year old dogs have the bladder and bowel control of new puppies, without the cuteness. I did my best, but it was quite rank.
After a few months of that and the inevitable death of my beloved childhood pet, I moved into a small one bedroom basement apartment. Small is an understatement really. My friends on the taller side of the spectrum had to duck in many places and my boyfriend couldn't stand upright in the shower.
After the little dungeon, I moved into the tower. I took the loft bedroom on the 3rd floor of a duplex which my FakeBro and his wife lived in. They were having money issues and had the extra space so I moved in to help them out. Me and my 4 cats. Living with their 3 cats, 1 dog and various other caged animals. My room did not smell good. 'Nuff said.
The tower made way to the walk-up. A very tiny 2 bedroom on the 3rd floor of a 100 year old building...with my boyfriend at the time. Who had a lot of stuff so I had to get rid of mine of course. That one smelled of food, all the time. Which was my fault of course cause I was cooking constantly (I was in culinary school at the time.) That place smelled awesome! But not like home.
The latest place I call home smells pretty good most of the time. I share a 3 bedroom house with my GirlRoomie and her boyfriend. My room smells like sandalwood, cause I burn the stuff all the time. The kitchen area generally smells like whatever vegetarian mush the Roomies are cooking (or had cooked 3 days ago and left out on the counter, yeah, they're slobs.) It's not tooo bad, but still not a winner.
The only one that came close was the tiny basement apartment. I was there for quite a while and though it was small, it was cozy.
It invariably reeked of me.
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