(no subject)
So, I'm the poster from a few entries back who had the girl living in her room. I transferred to an American university this year to spend some time with my dad and his family, as well as some of the friends I made staying with him. I'm hoping this living situation won't make me regret the decision.
I had to kick the girl out when I moved in. Seriously. She's sleeping on our sofa now, and tomorrow is supposed to be her last day, but they said that about a week and a half ago. Thankfully, though, four out of my five flatmates are displeased with the situation as well. I can already tell I've walked into a drama house. I hadn't been here a DAY when I started hearing complaints from different flatmates.
One of my roommates is OCD about cleanliness--I knew this going in, as my friend shared a flat (and a bathroom) with her last year. I had not quite experienced the extent of this.
We have to run the dishwasher every night, regardless of what's in it. The teatowels have to be folded a certain way, the print on them facing in a certain direction. No fingerprints on any of the appliances, no dishes, clean or otherwise, are to be visible at any point in time. Blankets can't be left on the sofa, and pillows have to be specifically arranged when not in use.
Our house's common areas are PRISTINE. This is not even a case of 'a few clean dishes out, really good for a uni house.' I mean our house is UTTERLY PRISTINE, with everything carefully put away and books and dvds alphabetically ordered and pillows arranged and fingerprints wiped down. In the few days I've gotten here, I've learned the nighttime wipedown routine that we employ to keep the OCD roommate from getting upset. She STILL finds things wrong; if one of us cleans something up, she goes over it right after us to do it 'right.'
All in all, I don't find this all that awful. I mean, it's better than a right old slob not carrying her weight. A little annoying, yes, especially when she cleans up after our cleaning, but whatever floats her boat, really. And she has her own bathroom, so that cuts down on a lot of the issues we might have. And it saves me from being the mean girl telling everyone to do their own dishes and empty the bin. I know, though, it's going to be an issue with the girl I share a bathroom with.
I am far from a neat freak, but dirty pants and bras and other articles of clothing shouldn't be left on the floor of a shared bathroom, ESPECIALLY when the bathroom in question is on the ground floor and used by people other than residents. EW.
This same flatmate has had a key made for her boyfriend. We are not well pleased.
I like most of the girls well enough, but I can foresee trouble--not between any of them and me, but between each other with me catching flak from the sidelines.
Also, the twat boys whose back garden is adjacent to where we park our cars have engineered some idiot, wiffle ball-derivative game whose point system involves our cars, with more points for hitting the nicer cars. My one flatmate asked them very nicely to stop; they haven't, smartly assuring us they'd pay to repair any damage. Yeah, sure. It sort of makes me wish I'd gone to gaelscoil like my mother begged me to when I was younger, because my grandmother screaming at me was always the scariest thing ever, and I'm sure if I ripped out some of that on these idiots they probably wouldn't do it again.
I do really like it here, though! And there's the bonus of an accent that everyone seems to find absolutely adorable (when they can understand it).