I hate my shower. I’m pretty sure it was built by hobbits without shoulders. I can’t really move in the thing. I’m 5 feet 10 inches tall, but the shower area is so small that I can’t bend over. My roommate has taken over the 6 square inches of shelf space, which means my stuff goes on the floor. I need to rotate and do yoga poses in order to wash my lower half.
Even living in dinky apartments in Asia, I’ve never experienced a more annoying bathing situation. This place has a crappy shower, the toilet is cramped, ants crawl all over, the sinks have no pressure and the microwave decides how powerful it wants to be from day to day. Even so, I’m much happier here than my last place, which was much nicer.
Why? First off, this hobbit place costs only about a week’s worth of my paycheck. The condo was much pricier.
Most of all, it’s the roommate situation. In college, I thought living with a roommate was a blast. Not only was somebody (usually) helping me with the cleaning, but I was also (usually) living with a best friend. Unfortunately, the rest of life is not like college.
I always believed once you performed some feat of strength or wowed some person of importance, you didn’t need to live with a roommate – unless you ticked off some voodoo warlock or actually wanted to share a bed with a significant other. Now I’m in my upper 30s but not exactly where I want to be financially.
Condo-Owner lived in the nicer place with me; he was the landlord, and he made the rules. That’s cool.
But Condo-Owner wrote passive-aggressive Post-It Notes all over the place about little things I’d do wrong.
I felt like he was watching me and taking notes on how long I’d keep the kitchen light on or how long my showers lasted. At the end of the month, I’d get huge bills splitting the costs of internet, cable and paper towels — even though I don’t use those things (that much).
The worst was him always standing around in his underwear — or naked. He wasn’t in particularly bad shape, but I’d prefer not to have a conversation with anybody unclothed. He’d be cooking breakfast more or less naked but get on my case for not labeling my food.
Pretty soon, I decided I needed a better house with 90% less naked dude. I found a new place, and even though it’s much worse, I don’t have a pernicious nose looking through my electrical activities.
Even though my place was clean when I moved out, Condo-Owner charged me $100 for a cleaning fee. A few years ago, I probably would have taken a dump on his front step, but now I’ll just remember that I’m an adult and don’t need to be a dickhead all the time.
However, if I ever build an apartment, I’ll take into consideration that people may weight more than 150 pounds and need to move around a little bit while showering, shitting or shaving.