Thursday, February 24, 2011

Dear; Roommate

It's early in the morning, and you and your girlfriend rise.  It is not the sound of you puttering around that wakes me, it's the incessant clicking sound the bowl of your bucket apparatus makes as you tap it on the side of your glass ashtray to clean it out in preparation for a new day.  Then comes the hacking.  The kind of coughing only winners make as they start their day.

As you both leave the house, you are sure to slam the door hard.  I suggest you try harder, especially when we are sleeping.  You aren't leaving the house with any specific purpose.  You drive your girlfriend to work in her car, only to bring the car home and sit in your room all day.  Why do you need the car?  You don't go anywhere.  You could be out looking for a job, or an apartment, or even just visiting friends to avoid sitting on your bed until the sun goes down.  But there you sit, constantly smoking weed and Skyping with other girls.  Does your girlfriend of 4 years know you do this?  Highly unlikely.  She is at work, like normal people, making a living so you can sit around and do nothing.

You generally head into the kitchen to make yourself a tea.  You use a brand new mug, not the one you used only once previously.  When you are done that tea, you make another one, with another new mug, leaving all the mugs on the counter for someone else to wash.  Despite my wonderful husband taking hours to wash all the dishes in the house the night before, come the end of the day, every single dish is once again dirty, untouched by anyone from your party.  The garbage overflows, because clearly your mother never showed you how to change the bag.  It's not your fault.

We work 12 hours a day, but we come home and are the ones to clean everything.  Our coffee table is littered with garbage.  And although we are very much guilty of some of the mess, you are just as well.  But don't trouble yourself!  Leave it there, and we will take care of it.  After all, you are more like a guest than a rent paying roommate.  You AND your girlfriend, who was not part of the deal and has a home to go back to, but insists on being here more than half the time.  But I digress.

When we are home, you are always around.  Most days we just want to relax and enjoy each other's company when we get home from that 12 hour shift.  But you and your girlfriend insist on sitting on that other couch right beside us and being loud.  She making stupid and annoying comments at the TV, shrieking at anything scary or laughing far louder than necessary.  You talking non stop about music, video games, or conspiracy theories.  After a couples hours of this, I'm ready to give up on life.  We had to take to hiding in our room for a while, until you seemingly got the point.  You don't come around much anymore, you hibernate in your room.  Only to come out and turn the oven on high when it's not even cold in here and make more tea and use more mugs.

I suppose you aren't a complete slacker.  You have big dreams, big ambitions.  But your pesky laziness is holding you back.  It should be a disability, shouldn't it?  That way, you could collect a cheque every month, just like you are now from Welfare, only it would be considered a little less shameful.  You applied to school, and miraculously got accepted.  But of course, you are banking on the government paying for all of it.  I try to act excited for you, and a little hopeful.  But we all know that even if all these plans work out, and if you actually finish the whole course and graduate, you will soon realize you either can't find a job in that industry, or you will remember that you hate working.

You have chosen to go to school for something music production related.  That's cool, it's what you enjoy.  Bust your options are highly limited.  You know that.  You may finish school and then just go back to sitting on your ass, waiting for someone to hand you a job.  You are going to wait a very very long time.  All that education will go to waste.  And let's just say for the sake of imagination that you are handed a job, it won't last long.  You will have to get up early, every day no doubt, and unless it's on your terms that just doesn't work for you.

I could go on, I feel like I have hours of complaints.  But I keep going back to one thought:


I have no idea where you are going to go.  You have not looked for an apartment, but I don't care.  You were given 2 months notice to get your shit together, and every other human on the planet can do so in that time.  You will have to find someone else's couch to live on, and somewhere else to store your shit.  That room belongs to the baby now, and it's time to GTFO so we can decorate.  If you aren't gone on the 1st, your stuff will be on the patio on the 2nd.  

I don't care where you go, just go.

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