Burning down the house
I enjoyed playing neighborhood poker games with Casey and Matt, but living with them was a nightmare. It wasn’t so bad that both guys were clinically depressed, but Casey and Matt inadvertently wrecked havoc on the apartment when they failed to take their meds… which was often.
From the first day I moved into my new Woodland Street apartment, I half-expected the guys to clean and make the place somewhat presentable. Instead, I arrived to a pigsty. The kitchen was the worst room, but also the best example of garbage, kitty litter, and cigarette butts thrown on the floor and the table. Moldy pots collected in the sink. It was gross. Thankfully, Casey’s girlfriend, a sex kitten named Amy, arrived a few minutes after me and helped me clean up the hellish excuse for a kitchen.
Apartment life slowly got better, which was a godsend during my senior year of college. Casey realized he needed to take his meds to achieve greater success in his classes. Matt eventually joined the bandwagon when he needed a job. Matt also showered, which helped the apartment a lot, as even Casey recognized Matt stunk.
Fast forward 11 years, and I am once again living with three quirky housemates. To my knowledge, none are depressed though a few have mood swings. One girl, a 31-year-old green thumb named Rachel, habitually boils water (or rice or eggs) on the stove and retreats to her room, forgetting she left the stove on. It’s amazing how many times I arrive home to a smoke-filled kitchen due to her burning something. Just two hours ago, I walked into the kitchen and saw her pot boiling…but the water had condensed down to a tinkle, so the pot was boiling itself and beginning to smell up the kitchen!
I’m tempted to begin paying for renter’s insurance in case she burns the house down.
