Sometimes I can\’t stand living with my roommate. Hopefully next year when I am on the other side of the United States, I will have my own room. A room that is separated from other people. A room that is far enough from the kitchen and bathroom so that I don\’t get regularly wakened up by TOILET FLUSH, SHOWERS, AND RIDICULOUS WALKING BACK AND FORTH TO THE SINK WHO KNOWS WHY SHE DOES IT EVERY MORNING LIKE TEN TIMES IN ONE MINUTE!
I guess I am a light sleeper.
The problem is that my roommate and I rarely converse. At first, I had liked it this way, except it leads to constant assumptions about why and what is she doing.
Why did she put a bag of her own garbage in the kitchen garbage that I had just taken out?
Why does she use up the rolls of toilet paper so fast (less than 5 days)??? (as a result of this observation, I have stopped my purchasing of toilet paper.)
Why does she insist that the bathroom is really dirty when my friends come over and remark how clean it is?
Why does she go into my side of the apartment to open the patio door when she has one directly inside her bedroom? (I put a stack of boxes in front of my patio door to make her desire to open MY door much more difficult.)
Yada yada. It\’s a wonder why I thought I could live with anyone. So far, perhaps the only person I can truly live with is my sister. We already shared our pet peeves of living together all 18 years. So it should be okay now, right?