To most people, I am not an easy person to live with, to share one bedroom with, one bathroom with, as well as one bed with. I, for one, have long realized this. To live with me actually is quite a challenge.
For this reason alone, it is no wonder I am very very selective when it comes to choosing housemates. For the last 9 months or so, I've had my fair share of experiencing both housemates from heaven and hell. The one(s) from heaven is definitely a bliss to live with.
But the one(s) from hell, well I need no further explanation behind the rapid growth of white hair on my scalp. And I can see that my hair is thinning nowadays. Probably due to excessive stress or imbalance hormones, or a combination of both. Housemate(s) from hell also plays a part.
The thing about living with me is I may not be systematic, in term of doing house chores. At one point, I can be lousy at these. But make no mistake, I do have a system, that so far works wonder for me. I have my own way of doing laundry, folding the clothes, arranging stuffs, as well as settling the bills. These are no-brainer really. I only need to set a deadline for each task. Sometimes when I get too bored at home, I start cleaning up, even during midnight. Yes I am quite nocturnal, you know. My brain and body function better at night.
Let me tell you about housemates from hell. These are the people who contribute nothing to the house, but the monthly rent (which sometimes may be outstanding). They just don't give a shit. Vacuuming the house? Fuck off. Cleaning the bathroom? Fuck it. Folding clothes? Fook I don't bother.
Oh yeah, they are also fucking lazy ass, they never even bother to clean up their own bedroom. You could see clothes scattering around their room, you could smell bad odour coming out of the room. Basically, their room is like a junk. Suddenly, you start asking, is this a bedroom or a shack?
Lucky me, I do have some good housemates, who help with the chores very often. Too bad though, they are moving out. Pretty soon, the housemate from hell also will move out. Oh, what a joy! And I'll be living on my own. Is this suppose to be a double joy? I don't know. But looking at the current state, I might as well start living on my own, just to feel the groove you know. To see whether I can cope and enjoy my own company. I can arrange the house the way I like, I can play music the fuck loud I want, I can invite friends to sleepover anytime I like, oh well I should do a party as well, right?
Now, I'm just counting the days until all these people finally moved out. Shit, I would somehow miss them too. And I'm writing this after breaking fast alone at home. I'm pretty messed up here, right?