06 January 2007

How do I love my housemates....

At the moment I'm not a happy chick. PMT kind of aggravates the problem...

I came back to university today at around 3.30. It's been a long journey here, and to save on stress and hassle, I'd ordered all of my groceries on Tesco.com. The plan was simply to accept the delivery and pack my stuff away in the kitchen.

What I hadn't expected to find was a kitchen table full of dirty crockery from my housemates. Which meant that I couldn't unpack the shopping as there was nowhere to put the boxes, which meant I sat and washed up for an hour, then dried up, and then put away all of their dirty dishes, and then cleaned the table before I could get my groceries sorted.

What was worse was finding some of my crockery amongst it, when I know damn well I washed and dried all of mine before leaving for vacation.
Not to mention playing 'animal, vegetable or mineral' with some of the stuff in the fridge. That was a delight I haven't experienced for a while. Never mind, the fridge is mine for a week now, and there's only my stuff left!

And I'm not just talking a little bit icky, I'm talking mould, and smell and everything with a sticky, slimy residue on it. Oh, and half empty wine bottles left all over the place. I hope they had a really good time without me, because I'm going to make the next month hell for them. Oh, and in case any of you have rumbled this blog, you owe me a bottle of wine each.

7 comments:

Anonymous said...

Oh, aren't shared hourses lovely! My second experience of university is much more civilised - at least I'm allowed to moan at my boyfriend for not tidying.

Anonymous said...

Dear house sharing student,

Your troubled account of filth and muck remind me of my happier student days. Times do not change my dear, students will be students will be students.

Indeed, your harrowed description of your kitchen bears nothing to mine. One of my African colleagues, a fellow filth bag, managed to import an infestation of african flying ants into our kitchen boiler room.

Oh the horror - baby giant ants, crawling by the thousands in the kitchen and some precious ones, flapping their baby wings.

Your fly infested prof,
Prof Scrub
http://www.scrubbingup.com/blogs/profscrub/blog.asp

Anonymous said...

Oh good lord! From afar my mum thought that there was a mouse on that plate as it was so furry. She's mighty glad I don't live in halls - I have a feeling she won't bug me as much about my messy room and just be glad I'm not sharing it with mould.

Lola Cherry Cola said...

Ahh, students, who'd live with the buggers ;-) I think a cleaning rota sounds in order... Hope you find a way to get your revenge. You know I would, hehe.

Anonymous said...

Ugh ugh ugh how I *hate* shared kitchens! Except with other OCD people.

Calavera said...

Oh no. That's kinda inconsiderate and really really rude of them...

Dang. Things like that would really piss me off....

Anonymous said...

Hi. I stumbled across your blog by accident when attempting to find new and inventful ways to exact revenge on my own oh-so-messy student housemates. I know exactly how you feel about dirty pots, and as for the dirty tea towels, GRRRRR, I have nightmares about them too. I am in my third year of Uni now, and have lived with the same *certain* annoying people whose habits include:
*pissing in the toilet and leaving it there for all and sundry to inhale and look at
*only washing the pots if someone is looking and they want to make a good impression
*using MY crockery and cooking stuff instead of theirs simply because a) i have lots b)it is nice stuff c) it is always clean
*moving and folding my damp laundry to make way for their own stuff

Anyway, there is lots more i could rant about, but i feel bad because I have probably just ruined your blog and you have no idea who I am. Sorry.

Regards, OCD cleaner, HULL

P.s. one final piece of advice re. messy housemates - Karma. It will bite them on the bum one day, just be patient and feel smug that you WILL be able to cope with the real world when University finally ends and you have to look after yourself, and *others* won't have a fecking clue.