Back and Forth, Back and Forth

On the plus side, my trip home was good. It was kinda boring and lonely at first, but I was able to spend that time relaxing, playing with my dog, and all that crap. On Sunday night, fiestada and I took our grandfather out to dinner for his birthday, so that was enjoyable. For me, anyway, she may disagree. On Monday night we joined biensoul for an evening of dining and trivia (which we sucked horribly at), so all was well. I also got to see Trey quickly, which drove home the feeling that it's really time to graduate now. It's friends like Trey that make me realize how much I'll enjoy full-time life back at home, and how much I miss out on by being in New York nine months of the year. Bah.

So about a week and a half ago I had our first "house meeting" of sorts with my roommates, due to the mounting tension in the air. I had to express the concerns and irritations that I've been experiencing lately, so I called everyone together. Basically, I feel as though my three roommates, in their own ways, are without a doubt some of the least considerate people I've ever met in my life. That's not to say that they're not friendly or fun to be around most of the time, because they are, and I still love them dearly, but sweet Jesus H. Christ.... I can't fucking stand living with them. I swear to god that I am the only one in this house that thinks about how my actions might affect EVERYONE ELSE WHO LIVES HERE. The two with kittens are seemingly oblivious to the fact that I dislike cats and our fourth roommate is allergic. All three of them leave disgusting messes in the kitchen. At least one of them doesn't know how to scrape uneaten food in the trashcan, for fuck's sake. They let it sit on the plate, on the counter, for days on end until someone finally loses it and cleans up! Dah! I do all of my fucking dishes AS I EAT so that I never have any dirty dishes to be accountable for. The girls? Shit, they will let dishes pile up until there is absolutely nothing left in the cupboards. Without even talking about how unfair that is to me, I think everyone would agree that it's just fucking nasty and in poor taste. I am seriously becoming embarassed to live in this house, and am now reluctant to invite friends over.

I clean up after the cats. I clean the dishes. I clean the stove. I sweep the floors. I keep the front porch tidy. I take out the trash. I clean the bathroom.

What do my roommates do? They let stray animals live in our house without asking how others feel about it. They leave plates that once held cookies sit on high-up shelves until the mold smells so bad an investigation is launched. They put bags of scooped kitty litter in the BATHROOM TRASH CAN. They allow guests to extinguish their cigarettes on our porch and then leave the butts lying around. They get in cake fights with other people, covering MY tapestry and afghans (which my mother made by hand) with icing. They complain about being too busy to wash a few dishes, as though no one else is busy. They steal large portions of my food without asking. They use the cereal bowls my parents bought for cat bowls and props in school productions. They take up multiple parking spaces in front of our house so that I have nowhere to park. They invite their ex-boyfriends over (who has admitted to raping a pre-teen) while my four year old sister and 10 year old brothers are visiting for the weekend.

Not a day goes by that I'm not shocked at the behavior of at least one of them. We're all 21 years old, except for one of them who is 22. They act like they're nine. It's disgusting and I'm tired of it, and am truly wondering if there's any alternative housing options for me, but I know there aren't.

It saddens me to say it, but when I leave this place in seven months, I truly don't think I'll keep in touch with anyone. That makes my heart drop just thinking about it. At least once a day I think to myself, "damn sevensurge, you've all but wasted the last three and a half years of your life." I'm not such a happy camper right now.

On my way out of the house this morning, my stepmother stops me and hands me a copy of He's Just Not That Into You. She told me that as soon as she'd heard about it, she thought about fiestada and I, and want us each to read it. I didn't know whether to burst into crybaby tears or laugh out loud, but in any case, I'll be reading it in the next few days, and fiestada will be right behind me. The inside jacket keeps addressing the reader as a woman, but I'll just pretend that was an oversight on the author's part.

I'm in desperate need of flirtation right now.

I'm Listening To:
One Thing I Did Today: