Worst. Housemate. Ever.
This place already gathers dirt like crazy and you add to it in PILES still. And YOU’RE the one living comfortably up front, sleeping on the big double bed all by yourself, leeching our internet while you thoughtfully allow maggots to fester in the biodegradable trash pot, and WE are the ones squeezed into the leaky back bedroom, single bed between us, each day cleaning up after you, your hair in the goddamn clogged bathroom drains, your grime on the bathroom tiles, the dead cockroaches that you keep sticking in the shower area for some unknown reason (instead of flushing them down the drain or at least dumping them into the trash bin), the leftover mud from the last baha that you didn’t even bother to clear up (even though you landed here ahead of us—I cleaned it all up when we moved in two weeks later, and I was horrified to learn that the baha happened and you just left the crap on the garage floor!), your rice and dust and hair on the floor, you only threw out the trash because I put up notes saying so; and even then, you still went and responded to my “request” notes by writing “yes, please do”. Am I your maid? Is my partner your maid? So sorry, I don’t think so. Doing your own personal dishes alone isn’t what “clean as you go” means, and I patiently did not say a word and just cleaned up and cleaned up and still I continue cleaning the hell up even though I am sick and should be resting, and my partner (who is recovering from pneumonia) continues to clean up too. Oh, and when I said that I needed the nebulizer ASAP, which was in the cupboard of the room you are staying in, that means ASAP. You do not withhold it until the following day, because I am going to fucking die.
You also do not know what privacy means. You DO NOT barge into a room while someone is dressing up. An fairly recent occurrence: I had the last spoon in my hand. You barge in, demanding a spoon. I said “Oh, sorry, okay I’ll bring it down.” You say, “I need it now.” I tell you that I will bring it down because I am getting dressed. You stand there WAITING for it. I tell you again, I am getting dressed. My partner grits her teeth because I do not like fights. You STAND THERE AND DO NOT LEAVE UNTIL I HAND YOU A GODDAMN SPOON. I SAID I WOULD BRING IT DOWN, WHAT PART OF “I AM GETTING DRESSED” DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND? You have also barged in on my partner several times, didn’t anyone ever teach you how to knock?!?
What a nice Monday morning I am having, really.
Made Tuna Omurice for my recovering-from-pneumonia bear and now I have to go to work with my piles of antibiotics. Here’s hoping that that ridiculous person is gone by the time I get home.
SHE FINALLY LEFT, A WEEK AGO. THE HOUSE IS NOW CLEAN.