Just so you all know, I am doing fine. I currently live with my friend's girlfriend. It sounds weirder than it is. She is a close friend, like a sister, and is seriously in no danger of me lusting after her, just not my type...at all.
The arrangement works out great. I am the big guy that keeps her weird neighbors and old weird friends from bothering her. I give her a low rent and everyone is happy. Except me. It isn't her so much as it is her dirtiness. Anyone who knows me has to know that for me to say anything about cleanliness requires an extreme problem.
In the four months that I've lived there, I am the only one who has vacuumed, cleaned the floors or done the dishes. I am the only one who has cleaned the bathroom.
She has a self-defrosting freezer that frosted up because it was too full and messy.
She has a dog. A Maltese. White dog of miniature death. I want to kill the animal, not out of cruelty toward animals but in self-defense. The animal is cruel to me. In the time that I've lived there, the dog has managed to eat my $150 sunglasses, eat my toothbrush, poop on my shirt and piss on my suitjacket. He eats the trash. He pisses on the linoleum. He craps all over the friggin house. And she never cleans it up. I used to but now I'm doing an experiment. I want to see how many pieces of crap it takes for her to start smelling it. So I step over it on the way in the house and step over it on the way out of the house. I know she comes in and out the same door as me, so I know she doesnt miss it. She has to be ignoring it, hoping I will do something about it.
I think the girl is really cool and we would get along great if the dog was dead. But, on the other hand, I think she would not really be friendly toward me if she found out I murdered her instrument of torture/dog.
Animals are overrated. They are worse than children (and that is saying a lot). Why anyone would suffer through the smell, the hair, the barking, and the crap is beyond me. At least kids will eventually help you with the chores.
I think I'm gonna move.
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2 comments:
Oh, you can't move. Justice won't allow it. I'm thinking of the room you kept at my house, the door to which we kept closed for the stink of it.
Besides, this is your most entertaining post to date.
And certainly you can't move in with Russ. The rent might be free, but all those nights and week ends handing out flowers at the air port... (Just kidding, Russ. I love you.)
Russell. I have lived with you. For a semester. I cant count how many times you ended up in my bed with only your underwear, laying on top of me. Hmmm. Plus didn't you just get hurricaned again?
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