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Why living with other people, quite frankly, blows

I thought today I’d share some of the more memorable moments in my 3.5 years of flatting. Honestly, some of the people out there are unbelievable! How anyone can be so impervious as to basic courtesies, I just don’t know.

Flatmates getting crunk on a cask of red wine, and spewing over the balcony onto lower neighbour’s balcony.

Finding remnants of fish (meat and bones) in a pot under the sink, and finally understanding where that rank smell in the kitchen had been coming from.

Flatmate throwing dishes and cutlery in the bin if they remained unwashed for more than a few hours.

Having my phone stolen off the living room coffee table on the day I moved into my first place.

Flatmate’s cats running all over the place, leaving dirty pawprints in the bathroom/bathtub (left for me to clean up).

Flatmate’s cat biscuits ending up all along the border of the kitchen floor (also left for me to clean up).

Flatmates leaving lights on all night.

Running out of toilet paper because nobody ever wants to cough up for any. And empty toilet rolls left all over the floor because apparently placing them in the bin by the toilet is just too hard.

Flatmates filling up ashtrays outside, then simply dropping butts on the ground because they can’t be bothered emptying the containers.

Flatmates spewing out windows and leaving vestiges of vomit on windowsill (leaving for others to clean).

Flatmates never, ever cleaning the toilet.

Flatmates leaving fruit peels, cutlery, mail, in fact almost anything, outside indefinitely on makeshift table of tyres and wooden plank.

Finding cutlery, rubbish, food scraps and socks behind and under lounge furniture.

Flatmates buying fruit and veg, then leaving in fridge for months to rot.

Ditto for beetroot. Except far, far worse, because beetroot somehow ALWAYS drips out of the can and stains everything around it.

Flatmates cooking in the oven, then leaving the tray covered in a inch of solid grease.

Flatmates being happy to utilise the stove, yet not once in months wiping up oil/food scrap buildup on it.

Flatmates breaking your prized (and supposedly unbreakable) special edition drinking glasses. Hiding them in the bin for you to find and blow up about.

Okay, gonna stop there! Or I will seriously never be able to bring myself to live with others again. The less I dwell on the bad, the better, right?

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