It’s pretty obvious this blog is dead. So. New things. After a year. Wow.
Because this is a theme blog, I’m just going to leave it here to rot and move on to this:
http://kuplis.wordpress.com/
Maybe things will work out with that new one. I don’t know – we’re not quite friends yet.
Happy blogging, everyone.
Firstly, I realise I have been a bit of a bad blogger… No blogs for ages! But, I’m happy to tell you, this is the End. I have amazing news.
I’m moving out! I’ve found a new and a much better place – and no bad flatmates! I’m so fed up with her it’s making me laugh. Just yesterday I threw away some of her stuff from the fridge that had been sitting there for months. Yuck.
But that doesn’t matter… I’m moving in about a month’s time, and then, FINALLY, I get rid of her.
Hurrah! we all shout with glee
Rule #4: Get Away
Doesn’t everything seem a bit better and brighter from afar? It does, doesn’t it. So, get away for some time – even if it’s just a weekend or a few more days. It all starts to seem a bit more nicer, I promise. At least if the place you’re going away to is your childhood home, as it is in my case.
My dear parents – how have I missed them! Or, well, not. All they seem to do is complain, and they never thank me for anything. And I do things, household chores, cooking and stuff. Okay, we have our moments, but they seem to have become very rare. And I’m probably being an ungrateful cow, yeah I know. This, however, seems to make me appreciate my own freedom in a whole new way – be it with a horrible Flatmate or not! I can do things my way, and when I want. Heaven. Even if it’s with a minor disturbance like Flatmate.
Flatmate really has become a minor disturbance – she just sits in her room, I never see her. Which doesn’t bother me at all. Call me cold-hearted. (although, I admit, it does make me feel a tiny bit unsocial)
Even the mess that Flatmate makes starts to seem like a haven of joy when compared to my parents. I fled the boredomness and frustration, and what do I find here? The very same things. Someone take me back there!
Rule #3½: Start Playing Your Music Louder
It does work. Although, it kind of might ruin the effect that Rule #3 had. But at least you won’t hear Flatmate’s stupid music while doing that – and listening to music a bit louder than normal makes you happy. (Yeah, right, I hear you say. It does. Music makes life more fun – (reasonably) loud music even more fun. Proven fact. )
That said, you probably guessed I’m starting to get a bit fed up with Flatmate’s music.
Happy listening.
Rule #3: Develop An Interest In Bad Music
Bad Flatmate – Bad Music. Sounds pretty straightforward and accurate, doesn’t it?
Unfortunately, it’s also true. The biggest cliché known to man, a flatmate who plays their music all day and all night and always too loud. And it’s always horrible, something that you can’t stand. Without exceptions. Have you ever heard of a flatmate with a good taste in music? Thought not.
And of course, it had to happen to me. It’s not as bad as it could be – I have experience of techno lovers living upstairs – but I can’ help hearing it. It always has to be something I hate.
Flatmate loves to listen to her music early in the morning, when I’m usually still in bed, it’s really lovely. She’s so nice. As you know the walls in student houses are always like paper, so I can pretty much hear all that she does anyway. Not that I would want to.
As it seems difficult to get in contact with Flatmate (and I do need to talk to her sometimes! ‘Go buy more toilet paper’, for example), I found that pretending to like her music helped. The one time I saw her going past the kitchen I quickly stopped her, pretending to be interested in what she was listening.
“You know, that music you listen to, I couldn’t help hearing it, it’s really good! What is it, I really like it!”
A bit of that and then a bit more chit-chat, and she thinks I’m nice and I can ask her to do boring things without being annoying and demanding. It’s like a nice warm-up! I’m not big on telling people what to do anyway, but sometimes it needs to be done.
“Yeah, I totally agree, that song is awesome!.. But hey, I just realised, there’s this one little thing, it‘s nothing really…”
But music. It’s such a uniting force – and then sometimes, it can be horrible. I consider myself pretty tolerant towards all kinds of music, but her music – it’s not the absolute worst I’ve heard, but it’s not very good either. I’ve no idea what it is, but it sounds like a weird mixture of country and Indian music. But good for her. Eclectic music taste and so on.
Flatmate seems to like me now that she thinks I like similar music. Things are going a bit better so I’m happier.
Rule #2: Ignore The Obvious Signs That Flatmate Is A Nerd – It Makes Two Of You
Even though you wouldn’t know a person very well, the way they live tells a whole story. Even the way in which they put their cutlery to dry tells something – if they put them the handle up, they’re a bad person, and if down, they’re good. This naturally doesn’t work if you have a dishwasher; we, as it happens, don’t. And don’t ask where I heard that – I can’t remember. This little sign tells me that Flatmate is a good person, deep down there. I just have to find the good things. The way in which she leaves everything where she happens to put them down doesn’t really make me feel confident…
Firstly, there are the empty pizza cases. There’s a pile of them in the kitchen (and I’m sure there are some more in her room, but I’ve never been there. I‘m not sure I want to). I know I like to have a pizza every now and then, but at least I take the empty cases out and not store them in the kitchen. Those have been there since December! Maybe if she gathers enough of them she could make sort of art with them. Modern pizza-art. Cover the walls with them or something. Isn’t it a sign that she is a nerd? Who self-respecting nerd doesn’t eat pizza? I’ve come to this conclusion, but this was by no means the only clue.
Then there are the dishes. Flatmate only washes the dishes maybe once every two weeks, and she makes amazingly high piles of plates and bowls in the sink. That’s a skill, isn’t it. Although, she has shown some progress when it comes to dishes now! But that’s it: true nerds don’t do the washing up if they can avoid it, they use disposable plates; exactly what Flatmate does when she runs out of plates.
The fridge. I don’t even want to put my things in there. I would if I loved mould, but I have to confess I think it’s a bit disgusting. It doesn’t seem to bother Flatmate, but then again she doesn’t have many things in there: mouldy onions and microwave meals. Yet another sign! No nerd would cook.
Flatmate constantly sits in her room. Or does whatever it is that she does. (she’s a nerd!) I haven’t seen her in two days now, but I know she’s there. She’s always there; I’m not sure she actually studies anything. I’m actually quite happy about that – but it just shows she’s antisocial and introverted. I’m not, of course. I have a real life. Really, I’m not kidding.
I like free papers. First of all, they’re free. They give me something to read when I’m having breakfast, or lunch, or just a snack. Yeah, I like to eat. Now I have an amazing supply of free papers: Flatmate has been kind enough (maybe she predicted that I would move in!) to collect them for a year or so. There’s a dusty pile of them in the kitchen – how thoughtful!
All these signs – how could she not be a nerd? I mean, come on. It’s not like I do any of those, I’m a good girl. Oh, wait… Actually, I do sit in my room all the time. And pile the dishes. (but only for a bit!) At least I cook! Well, that is if you count cooking pasta and heating readymade sauce as cooking. And I eat crisps like bread. And pizza, sometimes. Wait… I guess I’m the nerd here.
But at least Flatmate is worse.
Rule #1: If You Don’t Get What You Want By Being Yourself, Be A Bit Rude
That is, of course, if you’re not rude by nature. I’m not. And, nothing seemed to happen when I was just being nice and normal. Being Myself. Trying to make a good impression, trying not to come off as a moaning bastard. Which, consequently, I am. What else. It’s surprising how a little change in the attitude can make a big difference.
The thing is that I really really can’t stand any kind of filth. I’m not a freak; my room could use a bit of tidying up quite often. But I just can’t stand plain dirt – and that’s all this place was when I came. The shower was, and oh well, still is, disgusting – you’d want flip-flops to walk in there. But at least Flatmate’s done something about it now, however little that was. But it’s something and it’s a start. At first, I was being nice and pleasant and just hinted about the things that needed doing, but it didn’t seem to have any kind of effect on Flatmate. I don’t feel like I should be the one doing the cleaning because it’s not me who has made the mess, but I’ve had to do something to make the flat livable.
Being nice didn’t work, so I figured I’d try the other approach: being rude. Not really rude, just a bit, to make the message go through. But not being mean – I’m a fairly nice person, after all. Well, at least I think so. I just said something about her abilities to clean and, erm, something not so nice about the person who she used to live with. I don’t even know how to be mean, really – I’m bad at coming up with things that would be offending in any way. I bit of swearing always helps, of course.
A surprise! It worked! Not immediately, though, but it did! On some scale at least. Flatmate did the washing-up, which is a small miracle. Now I can actually see the table. I had to wipe it clean though, but it was a good start. There’s been a minor setback to a good start; nothing’s happened since. Maybe that was too big an effort for Flatmate and now she has to rest for a while to be able to get her hands dirty again. She does have all sorts of cleaning sprays and things in the cupboard, but I’m convinced her mum came to visit and realising the state of things bought those for her. There they just sit on the shelves, all lonely. Maybe it’s time there’s a change in the life of Flatmate’s cleaning products.
Oh and, if you really are rude by nature, why not try the other approach? Be nice for a change.
“Something that is bad is of unacceptably low standard, quality, or amount. Something that is bad is unpleasant, harmful, or undesirable.”
-Collins Cobuild-
We all know there’s nothing worse in the world than a really, really bad flatmate. The person you have to live with, to share a part of your daily life with. And what if he or she happens to be the most annoying thing in the world? There’s nothing you can do – especially when there aren’t any affordable apartments on the market. Every aspect of badness personificated. That person can make your life living hell – or, as in my case – sort of a hell. This is what happened to me.
I moved in. Everything went really well up until the moment when I walked into the apartment. The first thing I saw was a dirty carpet and dry pasta on the floor. And, well, the rest wasn’t any better.
There are certain things you just have to do when you live together with someone, especially when it’s with a total stranger. You have to maintain a certain level of tidiness and keep in mind the other person’s needs as well. How many of you would like to wake up in the morning and find the kitchen sink filled with dirty dishes, the coffee maker full of coffee from perhaps last week, and the rubbish bags piled against the fridge door? And of course, someone’s used all of the toilet roll. SOMEONE.
This special someone, whose lovely face you are going to see every day from now on, and whose lovely mess YOU have to clean up, and whose lovely habits drive you nuts.
This is:
How To Survive With A Bad Flatmate
