Roommate Warzone

I’ve just finished packing in what will be the first series of shoving things into boxes and heavy-lifting my junk around Ontario/Quebec until I make my way back to BC. I’ve performed an early evacuation from my apartment to temporarily seek refuge in a friend’s place. If there is an experience in Waterloo that I will not miss and have been vocally irritated about, it is my roommates. While I was open to living with strangers (new, shared perspectives was what I was imagining), this has been enough to tarnish any open-mindedness I had of living with students ever again. I’m aware that not all students are awful to live with; I’m also thankful that my roommates could have been much worse (ie. Leighton Meester's psychotic character in The Roommate), but it does not change how I feel about having had to share living quarters with four people I never want to see again. Over the course of these last eight months, I have had to share a communal living space with bratty girls and socially awkward guys. I could have easily ignored them if they weren’t so observably messy. I won’t miss the decay of old food in the fridge, the wrappers and crumbs of garbage left on the counter space, the crusty dishes left in the sink, the thick grease and spillovers left on the stove, and the conversations of small talk that did little to cover up my disgust. But I will find grace and solace in a new, clean place and will delete one of my roommate’s off of Facebook so I never have to see another status update on how hot he thinks I am. Weird, right?!

Yours,

P. xo.