All my belongings are packed up and the room swept clean. In just about an hour or so I’ll be moving out of number 47, the place which served as my home base the past 9 months. It wasn’t an ideal living place, was a bit horrid when I first moved in but I survived anyway. To recap my story, I lived with 4 other guys. The kitchen was upside down, the living room was half a rubbish heap and the toilet used to be moss-heaven. Somehow my dormant OCD genes activated (took a while) and nearly almost drowned the house in bleach. I thank God for letting me survive my tenancy without any serious illness (considering the state of the house). I did not receive a single word of thanks from any of my housemates all the while.
That’s fine by me. I did not do it for their gratitude. I did it because I wanted to live in a cleaner environment and it felt good to see the kitchen tops and bathroom walls sparkling clean.
Living in number 47 has somewhat graduated me from being an adolescent into an adult (although at the time of publishing I’m still 19). Cooking has never been a problem, I learned to manage utility bills (the paying part is easily done as I do it online, but its the collecting bit which was a crick in the neck) and developed so much patience and tolerance over the course of time I have been here.
I think I finally understood a little of the exasperation my mother felt when dealing with me. I’m sure some of you have had that “You’re so smart, but you don’t even know how to do simple things like that…” lectures from your parents or another adult. Because.
I’m really exasperated with my housemates!
I don’t give a damn that you graduated from Purdue and pursuing a Fellowship now. Beyond the electrical circuits and mechanical parts you’re so good at you don’t know how to deal with the world! When I tell you to call the utility company now, it means NOW. Those people take forever to process a request. Don’t you understand there is such thing as bureaucracy? Why does it have to be me to fill out the census form and settle minor complaints and stuff with the water/electricity companies? You’re smarter than I am and older, it shouldn’t be a problem right? You dared to be bitchy and mock me when I told you I’ve been to the library the whole day to finish a piece of coursework by its deadline by telling me “Oh, you’re doing so much work. I’ve been sitting in the sun reading a book the whole day”. I should have just dropped the F-bomb but never minded.
I don’t give 0.5 shit that you’ve got an Apple desktop, an electronic keyboard and flat screen connected to it, or that IPad or your car. You don’t even have a full-time job, you daily (de)hydration is coke, diet consist of pizza and take-outs, and you’re trying to tell me you’re trying to build on your biceps in the gym by going on the treadmill for 10mins and a few rounds of weights? I don’t care if you and your ‘best friend’ think I’m anti-social for turning down the invitation to a barbecue party at the back of the house. I was freaking exhausted having just returned from an intellectual masturbation in London the night before. Think I’m anti-social? Think again.
You see, I kept my housemates in the dark with a lot of things I have done. They never questioned, so I don’t see any reason I should tell them. I doubt they have the slightest notion of the existence of this blog. They have asked about my Facebook, I found them but I never added them to my friends list.
They don’t have to and there is no need for them to know about the rest of my life. So strangers, and this house, I bid farewell.