Waiting to Collide

As much as I’ve enjoyed living in a house instead of an apartment, there are certain areas that drive my anal retentive side a bit wonky. Sure, its awesome to have a yard for my dog, be able to blare music at any hour, and know that no maintenance man will be letting himself it without my being home. BUT I am a solitary creature who highly values my alone time, and I am extremely particular with how I like things.

Without further ado, the list of things I won’t miss.

The AALS. (see also my bathroom)

My roommate’s cats pissing on my stuff. This has not been an issue so much since she started keeping her cats in her room, but before that, her fatass curmudgeon of a siam mix pissed on my bed. Twice. And my messenger bag. And a pile of school papers. And she rubbed her ass on my bio lab notebook. I hate that cat. (see also terrier shitting)

Fixing the dishwasher arrangement. My roommate does not efficiently load the dishwasher, which leads to more loads needing to be run. Admittedly, this is also an OCD issue for me. Thanks, Mom. (see also electricity war, fugly plates)

The electricity war. The electricity bill for the house is the same as the one for the duplex Jon and I lived in. The two spaces have similar square footage. The deal with the house is that the thermostat is located in the main space of the house — the livingroom, diningroom, and kitchen are all one area, and there is a vaulted ceiling. So naturally, this is the hottest spot in the house. While the bedrooms may be (close to) comfortable, the livingroom is always at an uncomfortable 80-84 degrees during the peak of summer. The AC can’t do any better than that. The AC gnome kept pushing the therm down to 70-72 with no results. I, the lighting gnome, turn on every lamp from the moment I wake til I go to bed at night. The AC gnome blamed the lightbulbs for the cost of electricity. (see also too fucking dark)

The fugly plates. I have never owned the set of dishes being used when I have lived with someone else. Jon had his set, my roommie has hers. Her set is Fucking Ugly. They are heavy ass, purple-blue-green spiral painted crap from Pier One. Because they are heavy as yo momma 5 years after her wedding day, they tend to get chipped, and don’t load nicely in the dishwasher. (see also dishwasher arrangement)

Strangers using my bathroom. My roommate and I each have separate bathrooms, and she lets her guests use mine when I’m away. Yes, I am anal, and like my personal space undisturbed. I fully admit to this, and it has been well documented. (see also AALS)

Small objects hung on large walls. Aesthetically, its just desperate. And it looks like crap.

The terrier shitting when he is displeased. My roommate has a Jack Russell who I love dearly, but will kill the next time he shits somewhere when he doesn’t get to go on a car ride. (see also cats pissing)

This house is too fucking dark. The houses in the neighborhood are all placed very close together, so they only have windows on one side facing a blank wall on the house next door. Smart design, but it means that there is a severe lack of light in the livingroom and diningroom — where I spend most of my time. The second I get up, all of the blinds are open and the lights are all on. And its still too dark. (see also electricity war)