Exam-Time Rants: I Hate my Housemates (Or: "These Hoes Ain’t Loyal")

For a student who wants to live off-campus, accommodation options are pretty slim. Finding a place that is reasonably priced (whatever that means), in a safe area and close to public transport is difficult.
I just needed somewhere with a manageable number of tenants and a good bed. After living through the hell that was 60+ rowdy and disrespectful students in a building with  foam mattresses and a bad cockroach problem, I was desperate for something different.

A nice house on a quiet street, to be shared with four other people, seemed like the perfect solution. I could handle four people. I mean, what could possibly go wrong? The first people I met seemed cool, and I had no reason to suspect that they would cause trouble. I came in believing that common decency would prevail, and we would all get along just fine.

Once all five of us had moved in, we had a casual conversation about house rules, and we all agreed on how the house would run. No noise after 22:00 on weekdays, and 23:00 on the weekend; each person is responsible for their own dishes in the kitchen; electricity should be loaded onto the metre with the first seven days of month. Simple things that everyone could remember. So everything was sorted.

Except that as soon as the semester got underway, all of that was forgotten. I couldn’t understand how people could walk in and out of the kitchen, see the sink teeming with dishes they left there, and continue layering crumbs and spices over the oil and tea and wine that was already covering the counter tops. How does it seem okay to leave dishcloths crumpled on the table after using them to mop up sauce spills?

We are sharing this house. How does it not occur to these people that what they’re doing could be inconveniencing others?

I wash and pack away what I use, because I am mindful of others, and also because it is the right thing to do. This concept of the “right thing” is obviously not universal, because I am the only one who has an idea of how it works.

I know who the culprits are, too. They are the ones who bring their friends over for impromptu “house parties” in the middle of the week. Too many times I have been woken up at 02:00 (03:00, 04:00) by obnoxiously loud music, whining drunk girls with high-pitched voices, and the general ruckus that can be expected from students tumbling back in after a night on the town.

At first, I let it go. We are all young here, and who am I to stop others from having a good time? But then things really started getting out of hand. The courtyard where they were smoking and drinking is connected to my room. How disrespectful. How inconsiderate! But you know what I did? I let it slide.

That’s my problem: I do too much slipping and sliding for my own good.

One of the other girls was also getting fed up, and she and I would commiserate in the kitchen sometimes… Another meeting, and nothing new came up. The same rules and issues which we spoke about the first time were rehashed, and again people promised to do better.

At that point, I was starting to believe that there was no such thing as common decency at all. Nothing is ever “common”, and the definition of “decent” changes depending on who you ask. So it’s no wonder I can’t get along with these people.

For the past three months, I have been keeping to myself and making the least fuss possible. I pay for electricity on time, I keep the kitchen as clean as I possibly can for my part… and I still think that maybe this will rub off on the troublemakers. That’s another problem of mine: I always hope that somehow things will work out.

This last month has been particularly tough for me. The number of times the power has suddenly gone out because someone didn’t contribute on time is far too high. I am still angry about how the water in the shower turned cold while I was in the middle of lathering up, because the geyser stopped working. Another time, the power went out and I lost an entire night that I could’ve used to work on an essay.

The same two party animals didn’t see any problem with the way their refusal to do things on time affected the rest of us. They still don’t. I have had to spend extra money to cover their mistakes! Because the thing is, I can’t wait for them to straighten up. That would only mean more cold showers and nights of eating dry bread because the stove isn’t working. And I cannot be about that life.

Recently, things reached a new level of ridiculousness when I discovered someone was stealing my milk. Up until then, I saw not problem with sharing a fridge. It means I don’t have to pay extra to use mine – and who doesn’t like saving a few bucks? But when I buy a litre of milk, use it for two cups of tea and a bowl of cereal, and then find a carton with less than a teaspoon of milk in it in the fridge the next morning, I start to worry.

When it happened the first time, I thought maybe I had been distracted, and had actually used more milk that I remembered. But it’s happened three times now. And what’s worse is that this time someone took my cheese too!

I never wanted to live the life of a surly digs resident who puts post-its on everything and threatens to call the landlord in all the time. But for the sake of my sanity I might have to do just that. But then again, why should I have to suffer, when I pay just as much rent as everyone else? I have to call this place home, so can I at least live in peace – without  worrying about dairy snatchers?

I don’t want to have to deal with people who set fire to plant pots with their cigarette stubs, or blast music (bad music, mind you) through their Bluetooth speakers, or stomp up and down the passage, or slam doors, or leave half-empty wine glasses out for three days, or walk into the kitchen in the morning with just their underwear on.

I am so over these people. And my friends are tired of me sending them updates of my woes on WhatsApp. I need to live alone.
But where? The process of finding a shared space was nightmarish enough. To find a flat for one person I would probably need to go to the top of Lion’s Head and sacrifice a virgin.

But before I do that, let me go and eat what’s left of my cheese – just to spite the thief.