Tuesday
A little venting I did, because this really pissed me off. Names are changed. This is what happened yesterday. This was written for the December Holiday Challenge at tamingthemuse , so I got a pretty!
Title: Tuesday
Fandom: non-fiction
Summary: Dude, wtf?
Rating: PG-13ish
Word Count:1,130
Tuesday
I walked in to the apartment. It’s not really an apartment, but more like a suite style dorm room, with five individual rooms and a shared living space and kitchenette. I went straight to my room, unlocking the door and setting down my bag with my notebooks and textbooks in it on my bed. I was tired and a little frustrated. I’d spent a good portion of my last class trying not to make my disdain of the religious fanatics in my class too obvious. Most of the time it doesn’t bother me, but sometimes it gets under my skin when people don’t think and just stick to the company line.
I left my stuff in my room and left to go to the kitchen area, leaving my door cracked open. I don’t like to keep it wide open, but if I close it all the way it will lock behind me. As I walked into the kitchenette Shawna and Crystal were working on something on the floor in front of the tv. I noticed two post-it notes on the counter. One said “Stop leaving stains on the counter” and the other said “clean up after yourself.” I was already frustrated, so this just made me more irritated. The notes were clearly for me. The first one was on the counter under the microwave, where I often put my French press after I rinse it. The second one was next to my French press, which still had coffee in it from that morning. The note was referring to the light dusting of coffee grounds around the press. It really wasn’t that much, and I was going to clean it up, I just hadn’t remembered to before I left for class that morning. Normally I do clean it up before I leave, but even when I don’t I always take care of it that night.
I was insulted by these notes, which implied I was some sort of messy pig. I’m not. Sure, my individual room is a mess, but I like it that way, it’s more homey. I never let that mess spill out into the common area because I know it would bother other people. Of all five of us in the suite, I am the only one who has completed their assigned chore, on time, every single time. The other girls have all missed at least one day. So it’s not like I’m irresponsible.
I looked at these post-it notes, meant for me, and wondered why they couldn’t just talk to me face to face? They were sitting right behind where I was standing, ample opportunity, and if they had I know for a fact that it wouldn’t have been a big deal. I would have said “okay,” and that would have been the end of it. Instead they chose to write me notes.
So, I’d been annoyed by Shawna the night before when she smoked for over an hour and the smell filled my room. So I figured it they wanted to leave notes about things that annoy them I could too. I went to my room and wrote “stop smoking pot” on a post- it, followed by a smiley face. I went and put it on top of one of the notes that was meant for me. Then I went back to my own room and closed the door.
Not ten seconds later I heard a knock on my door. It was Shawna. She was angry. She said she didn’t smoke pot, it was something called a “black. ” Now, understand, I’ve never smoked pot, or been around other people while they were smoking it. So I really don’t have a good idea of what it smells like. I just thought that since she was smoking, and it didn’t look like a cigarette, and didn’t smell like a cigarette, that it was pot. It’s not like thinking a college student smokes pot is completely out there. I know plenty of people who do it. I’m actually still not convince she wasn’t smoking pot, but I don’t have proof, so whatever.
Shawna took offense that I thought she was smoking pot. Which was ironic, because I honestly hadn’t thought she would find that insulting. First because if she had been smoking pot like I thought she was, it wouldn’t have been an insult, it would have been true. Also, I don’t have anything against people smoking pot; I just didn’t want the smell to fill my room. I’m of the opinion that it should be legal, though I don’t care enough to try and lobby for it or anything. So even if she wasn’t smoking pot I didn’t know why she was so mad that I thought she was. All she had to say was “it wasn’t pot.” There, misunderstanding solved. But no, she had to get indignant. “Do you really think we’d smoke pot on campus? That’s an illegal substance!” She said.
“So which is it?” I should have said, “You don’t smoke an illegal substance, or you just don’t smoke it on campus?” I also should have pointed out that why would I think she has a problem with illegal substances when I know for a fact that she drinks alcohol, and she’s not 21. That’s pretty much the same thing. I’m not sure what she would have said to that, but it would have been better than just apologizing and closing the door.
At that point I knew the post-it note was a mistake, I should have just ignored them, but something in me snapped a little and I did the stupid thing. But sometimes I get tired of just keeping my head down and not making waves. Though I really need to work on my follow through when it comes to standing up for myself.
Before she huffed and left, she also accused me of being mean. She said that the notes left for me were nice. I’m sorry, how is avoiding talking to me by leaving notes that imply I’m irresponsible when you’re in the same room and could talk to me anytime nice? No, it’s not nice.
I should have argued back with her, but she has much more practice at shouting than me, and no matter my arguments, she was too far up on her high horse to hear what I was saying. So, I retreated, and listened to them make fun of me the rest of the night.
I’d already decided to move, since I hadn’t wanted to live with them in the first place, and they hadn’t chosen me either. We’d been thrown together and it wasn’t working out. But that day? Made me sure.
I’m so moving out. Living with drama queens is way too stressful.
Title: Tuesday
Fandom: non-fiction
Summary: Dude, wtf?
Rating: PG-13ish
Word Count:1,130
Tuesday
I walked in to the apartment. It’s not really an apartment, but more like a suite style dorm room, with five individual rooms and a shared living space and kitchenette. I went straight to my room, unlocking the door and setting down my bag with my notebooks and textbooks in it on my bed. I was tired and a little frustrated. I’d spent a good portion of my last class trying not to make my disdain of the religious fanatics in my class too obvious. Most of the time it doesn’t bother me, but sometimes it gets under my skin when people don’t think and just stick to the company line.
I left my stuff in my room and left to go to the kitchen area, leaving my door cracked open. I don’t like to keep it wide open, but if I close it all the way it will lock behind me. As I walked into the kitchenette Shawna and Crystal were working on something on the floor in front of the tv. I noticed two post-it notes on the counter. One said “Stop leaving stains on the counter” and the other said “clean up after yourself.” I was already frustrated, so this just made me more irritated. The notes were clearly for me. The first one was on the counter under the microwave, where I often put my French press after I rinse it. The second one was next to my French press, which still had coffee in it from that morning. The note was referring to the light dusting of coffee grounds around the press. It really wasn’t that much, and I was going to clean it up, I just hadn’t remembered to before I left for class that morning. Normally I do clean it up before I leave, but even when I don’t I always take care of it that night.
I was insulted by these notes, which implied I was some sort of messy pig. I’m not. Sure, my individual room is a mess, but I like it that way, it’s more homey. I never let that mess spill out into the common area because I know it would bother other people. Of all five of us in the suite, I am the only one who has completed their assigned chore, on time, every single time. The other girls have all missed at least one day. So it’s not like I’m irresponsible.
I looked at these post-it notes, meant for me, and wondered why they couldn’t just talk to me face to face? They were sitting right behind where I was standing, ample opportunity, and if they had I know for a fact that it wouldn’t have been a big deal. I would have said “okay,” and that would have been the end of it. Instead they chose to write me notes.
So, I’d been annoyed by Shawna the night before when she smoked for over an hour and the smell filled my room. So I figured it they wanted to leave notes about things that annoy them I could too. I went to my room and wrote “stop smoking pot” on a post- it, followed by a smiley face. I went and put it on top of one of the notes that was meant for me. Then I went back to my own room and closed the door.
Not ten seconds later I heard a knock on my door. It was Shawna. She was angry. She said she didn’t smoke pot, it was something called a “black. ” Now, understand, I’ve never smoked pot, or been around other people while they were smoking it. So I really don’t have a good idea of what it smells like. I just thought that since she was smoking, and it didn’t look like a cigarette, and didn’t smell like a cigarette, that it was pot. It’s not like thinking a college student smokes pot is completely out there. I know plenty of people who do it. I’m actually still not convince she wasn’t smoking pot, but I don’t have proof, so whatever.
Shawna took offense that I thought she was smoking pot. Which was ironic, because I honestly hadn’t thought she would find that insulting. First because if she had been smoking pot like I thought she was, it wouldn’t have been an insult, it would have been true. Also, I don’t have anything against people smoking pot; I just didn’t want the smell to fill my room. I’m of the opinion that it should be legal, though I don’t care enough to try and lobby for it or anything. So even if she wasn’t smoking pot I didn’t know why she was so mad that I thought she was. All she had to say was “it wasn’t pot.” There, misunderstanding solved. But no, she had to get indignant. “Do you really think we’d smoke pot on campus? That’s an illegal substance!” She said.
“So which is it?” I should have said, “You don’t smoke an illegal substance, or you just don’t smoke it on campus?” I also should have pointed out that why would I think she has a problem with illegal substances when I know for a fact that she drinks alcohol, and she’s not 21. That’s pretty much the same thing. I’m not sure what she would have said to that, but it would have been better than just apologizing and closing the door.
At that point I knew the post-it note was a mistake, I should have just ignored them, but something in me snapped a little and I did the stupid thing. But sometimes I get tired of just keeping my head down and not making waves. Though I really need to work on my follow through when it comes to standing up for myself.
Before she huffed and left, she also accused me of being mean. She said that the notes left for me were nice. I’m sorry, how is avoiding talking to me by leaving notes that imply I’m irresponsible when you’re in the same room and could talk to me anytime nice? No, it’s not nice.
I should have argued back with her, but she has much more practice at shouting than me, and no matter my arguments, she was too far up on her high horse to hear what I was saying. So, I retreated, and listened to them make fun of me the rest of the night.
I’d already decided to move, since I hadn’t wanted to live with them in the first place, and they hadn’t chosen me either. We’d been thrown together and it wasn’t working out. But that day? Made me sure.
I’m so moving out. Living with drama queens is way too stressful.