You are all one in the same — dirty, selfish and inconsiderate a-holes. Don’t think that just because we share a roof over our heads that you are exempt from my wrath; you see, that is anything but the case.
I admit that it doesn’t take much to drive a cleaning-crazed roommate like Danny Tanner nuts, but even a teenage girl would be disgusted with the monumental messes you make in the kitchen. When did it become acceptable to leave dirty dishes sprawled across the counters, every surface that isn’t hidden by dishes covered in grease from last week’s dinner and garbage overflowing from the can? Oh, that’s right; it became acceptable when you decided you’d rather play COD or iBone with your boyfriend for hours instead of cleaning up after yourself.
Don’t worry, though, I clearly chose you as a roommate because I wanted to brush up on my housewife skills, which is why you don’t hear me complain about cleaning the rest of the house either. But for the record, the black tile does not miraculously turn beige on its own; I spend two hours each week transforming the pigpen you created into this clean house we call home.
Like your inability to clean up after yourself, most of the things you do are such a mystery. Take, for example, your insistence on storing your bike in our living room during the winter. Why would you think it is ever tolerable to park your bike inside the house? I get that it is cold outside, but your bike doesn’t know any better. So spare me the tire tracks on the floor I just mopped and keep that shit outside.
Another thing that I will never understand is your claim to be so forgetful. The rate at which you forget things can only be attributed to one of two things — either you have early onset dementia or your mom not only did crack while you were in the womb, but also continued to feed it to you well into your teens. Seeing as you are a highly functioning adult outside of our living situation, I would assume neither is true.
Even still, you conveniently forget when our bills are due so I either have to pay out of pocket or we acquire late fees up the wahzoo. I get that everyone can be a little forgetful sometimes but that doesn’t explain why every time you do the laundry you “”forget”” and leave your wet clothes in the washer to mildew for a good week or so until I move them. Earth to roommates: If you are that forgetful, tie a damned string around your finger so you can remember.
In case you weren’t aware, our apartment does not double as an after-party hotspot. When the bars close for the night, either say goodbye to Romeo and his friends or take the party to their house. The last thing I need is to be woken up in the morning by some homeboy looking for his cell phone, only to walk into the kitchen to see that you and your new friends have kindly left a mess for me to clean.
I know it seems like everything drives me crazy, but that’s because it does. You are lucky I didn’t mention your inability to turn off the lights when you leave a room, the fact that you have made a habit of calling me at 3 in the morning to let you in because you’ve locked yourself out and your habit of parking too far over in the driveway so I have to park on the street or in the gravel. You see, I could have mentioned all of that, but I think that would just make me a bitch.
— Mallory Hawkins is a communication senior. She can be reached at letters@wildcat.arizona.edu.
