My housemates are away for the weekend, and this means I am experiencing the small yet perfectly formed joys of being alone in a shared abode.
The kitchen has been Detolled into spotless submission, there are no pubic hairs in the bath (or sink, for that matter. Don't ask.) and the toilet is well and truly flushed. Later, I might even go all out and clean the shower. Maybe even mop the floor, and buy a bin to replace the Tesco carrier bag on the back of the bathroom door.
I think you'll agree; a truly exciting day awaits.
Prior to starting this new permanent job - which is going well apart from the daily abject terror that I will not be able to deliver what is required of me, that I will fail monstrously and not live up to expectations and shrivel slowly into a puddle by my desk wailing "I'm melting, I'm melting" - there were a lot of things I wouldn't have been able to consider.
One of those things was getting my own place, something that job security will one day afford me even if, for now, the salary doesn't.
It would be my own one bedroom flat where everything is as I left it - food in its rightful place (i.e. not blocking the drain), toilet roll in the bathroom (i.e. not in bedrooms, kitchens, living rooms and anywhere else frequented by a runny nose) and water confined to places capable of both holding and disposing of it (i.e. not on floors, walls or any surface within a two metre radius of the tap).
It's not even that I dislike living with people. Not at all. I have bloody good housemates, I'm a sociable beast and research tells me these are problems I'd have no matter who I shared with. And anyway, it's nice to hear the low-level buzz of other people downstairs, to have a mini-social life in your own house when illness, money or general laziness keeps you indoors.
But one day I'd like to live alone in lovely London, create my own mess, and not hurl £600 a month into my landlord's Spanish villa retirement fund in doing so.
And when that happy day comes, I will gaze wistfully into the kitchen sink and sigh:
"Yes, there is egg from three days ago nestled in and around the plug hole. But it's my egg, god damn it, and that makes it ok."
6 comments:
Actually, if you find a housemate who's OCD, you don't get the "Other people's mess" thing. But you do find, for example, the book you're reading that you put down for 10 seconds has been put neatly back in its place on the bookshelf...
Ah, I miss living alone. But you're right, it's nice to have a mini social life in your house. Provided you like who you live with. I've had both good and bad roommates. Definitely prefer living alone.
Living alone is brilliant. In fact, I'm so used to it that I don't think I'll ever get married. I don't know whether I could cope with having someone else in my space.
It occurs to me that I now sound like the mad cat lady I think I'm becoming!
Had a friend who shared a flat with a guy who in the time they ended up living together (bout 18 months) he never stripped his bed, he'd built up a collection of beer cans in his double wardrobe (which we thought he kept his clothes in but these were discovered tucked up under his bed) and he `accidentally' walked in (whilst semi-dressed) to her room one night whilst she was half asleep in her bed (but claimed afterwards having no recollection of the incident). I can see why, in her position, she couldnt wait to have a flat to herself.
Anyway, having space to oneself is definitely a good thing and whilst it may seem like nowt but a spinster lifestyle (hello Nutty!) if it makes you happy then sod everyone else.
PS : Egg is a bitch when it's dried. That, and porridge.
Dominic - That is a brilliant idea. I wonder if there's a website out there, like Gumtree or IntoLondon, but where you can specify your future housemate's preferred level of OCD.
Breeza - I think three housemates, if they're good, is a nice number of housemates, once I lived with 6 others and that was nuts. The kitchen was a state.
nuttycow - Well, you know whatserchops who's married to Tim Burton - they live in separate houses. Not such a bad idea, the own space malarky.
London lass - Questionable kitchen cleanliness is one thing. Personal hygiene is absolutely none negotiable, and I definitely wouldn't be volunteering to clean *that* in my down time.
I LOVE living alone. Roommates and I do not get along well. And I'm talking with my boyfriend about living together - let's just say that'll be a HUGE adjustment that I will have to make...
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