My roommate.
I really didn't think that having a roommate would be that bad. I moved in with a coworker. She needed someone to move in with her to help out with expenses because she's badly in debt. We needed someone to move in with initially because we couldn't afford a deposit. Seemed like a win win situation. And it really should have been.
Things are turning sour. I think it mainly has allot to do with the fact that she doesn't do well at work and she's having many problems with her money. So we were paying for her to get the cable turned on and we paid to keep the power from being cut off right when we moved here. Just to pay our way and to show that we're reliable. And when she asked for rent, even though I couldn't pay it all at once, we gave her everything she asked for within three days. She even seemed surprised we remembered. However, some things don't seem to be sitting well with her. Now granted, I complained about the fact that she talks nonstop without interruption... (I mean, she doesn't just talk allot, she refuses to let you join in the conversation. And if you get to say anything, she'll be damned if she listens to what you've said.) But after a while we just kept more and more to ourselves and didn't have to deal with her that much. I only had to really interact with her at work. And it's at work that she's getting up in arms with us.
The cat box is the culprit...or scapegoat. It's become so ridiculous. She knew we were bringing two cats into the house and seemed almost apathetic about it. But it started when she came to me once about the litter box and suggested that we scoop it every time we saw anything in it. I thought it sounded pretty extreme, most normal cat owners scoop two or three times a week, which is what we had been doing. But the smell, she said, was so awful she couldn't cook. And the fruit flies seemed to have come from nowhere.
Now here is where I'll take a moment to pause and explain something. Pandora (way too cool a name for this girl) had been in so much debt that she couldn't pay for her garbage pick up. And she has about six months worth of garbage sitting in her garage feeding a large multitude of insects. This house has the worst bug problem I've ever encountered. Spiders, roaches, flies, ants, large beetles. Everything. And not only keeps her trash in the garage, but her refrigerator as well. I have... NO clue as to why. So she has the gall to suggest that our litter box is causing the fruit flies. Sure, they may stay for the litter box, but they come for the rotting trash.
Anyways, she mentions that we should clean the box ever time we see a blemish in the litter. I shrug and hope she'll get over that idea. We clean it thrice a week, and it doesn't bother us. Maybe we're just used to it. Well, I get to work and she's acting distanced from me, which I don't mind, but I'm not used to so I ask around if she's pissed for some reason. We thought it may have been that we didn't take her to work as we had been for a few days (she spent the time in our car insulting Voltaire when we got the new album.) But it turns out that she had told at least three friends of mine at work about how irresponsible we've been about the litter and even said to Sidney, "That box has not been cleaned in at least twenty four hours!" Holy hell, sound the alarms! But not only that, she's been talking about Don. Telling Drew that if he wasn't going to look for a job, then at least he could mow the lawn and clean the house up. She's even gone so far recently as to say to some people that he isn't even trying to find work. Now, I have several problems with this. First and foremost, his finding a job or not is absolutely none of her business. Secondly, he is finding a job. It isn't that one can just snap their fingers and be employed. Not like being a stripper. He's trying to find real work. And thirdly, her house was a complete unmowed mess before we arrived. It's Don's job to clean up after the two of us. Not her. So I was pretty rattled about that whole ordeal, so I called Don, and he bought Tidy Cats Small Spaces litter (which does WONDERS) and completely cleaned out the box.
That night before we left to go home, Pandora came to me to tell me that the litter box will HAVE to be moved to my room (seriously no where to put it) and that it's just too unbearable. I assured her that the box was changed, and we bought nice new expensive litter that other girls were singing about. But her response was "No it's not even that, it's just too awful. That cats won't even go in the box they're so disgusted." (She told several people this. When Don checked for the offending floor shit, he found a hairball near the cat box.) After saying all this she quickly left, and I went home not long after, angry and perplexed. When we got home, she came to me and said that she was having a bad day and that we'd figure something out about the box. Then she went to bed, and we angrily shrugged it off.
Not long after, I kept hearing of her saying basically the same things at work. We'd been cleaning to box nearly every day and using some Febreze Air Effects to it's fullest. We still haven't encountered her much at home since she was normally awake and out somewhere before we got up. And then it was time for Dragon*Con. We went, played for four days, and came home for good. Then I get to work to hear about how she'd been complaining about how Dragon Con wasn't her priority (whatever that means) and that we hadn't touched the box the whole time we'd been there. An out and out lie. Because we made a point to shut her up about it. We clean that thing now more than I've ever cleaned a box. And not only that, she'd told several other people (anyone who'd listen really) about how we don't clean it for weeks and that Don wasn't even trying to find a job. I haven't heard form or encountered her since, but if I hear one more telling of her instigated drama, I think I'm going to politely ask her if she'd like us to leave.
I really thought she wanted us here to help her in not losing her house, but it seems that that isn't the case. And I'd much rather Don and I live on our own in the city. I haven't felt welcome since we arrived, and I really feel she should worry more about her car being nearly repossessed than a litter box. And I'm certain the smell she insists on being floored by is the rotting trash in the garage...
But maybe I'm just bitter. I'm a big push over as most of you know, but I'm being pushed to the edge. It's one thing to complain about something to people. But to go on and exaggerate over and over to other people about things she has no business worrying about or even do so without coming to me about it first and foremost, is just ridiculous.
So here's me returning the favor and complaining. Though I'm not doing it to any of her friends. And I will confront her the next time I hear of a problem.
Ugghhh....
Things are turning sour. I think it mainly has allot to do with the fact that she doesn't do well at work and she's having many problems with her money. So we were paying for her to get the cable turned on and we paid to keep the power from being cut off right when we moved here. Just to pay our way and to show that we're reliable. And when she asked for rent, even though I couldn't pay it all at once, we gave her everything she asked for within three days. She even seemed surprised we remembered. However, some things don't seem to be sitting well with her. Now granted, I complained about the fact that she talks nonstop without interruption... (I mean, she doesn't just talk allot, she refuses to let you join in the conversation. And if you get to say anything, she'll be damned if she listens to what you've said.) But after a while we just kept more and more to ourselves and didn't have to deal with her that much. I only had to really interact with her at work. And it's at work that she's getting up in arms with us.
The cat box is the culprit...or scapegoat. It's become so ridiculous. She knew we were bringing two cats into the house and seemed almost apathetic about it. But it started when she came to me once about the litter box and suggested that we scoop it every time we saw anything in it. I thought it sounded pretty extreme, most normal cat owners scoop two or three times a week, which is what we had been doing. But the smell, she said, was so awful she couldn't cook. And the fruit flies seemed to have come from nowhere.
Now here is where I'll take a moment to pause and explain something. Pandora (way too cool a name for this girl) had been in so much debt that she couldn't pay for her garbage pick up. And she has about six months worth of garbage sitting in her garage feeding a large multitude of insects. This house has the worst bug problem I've ever encountered. Spiders, roaches, flies, ants, large beetles. Everything. And not only keeps her trash in the garage, but her refrigerator as well. I have... NO clue as to why. So she has the gall to suggest that our litter box is causing the fruit flies. Sure, they may stay for the litter box, but they come for the rotting trash.
Anyways, she mentions that we should clean the box ever time we see a blemish in the litter. I shrug and hope she'll get over that idea. We clean it thrice a week, and it doesn't bother us. Maybe we're just used to it. Well, I get to work and she's acting distanced from me, which I don't mind, but I'm not used to so I ask around if she's pissed for some reason. We thought it may have been that we didn't take her to work as we had been for a few days (she spent the time in our car insulting Voltaire when we got the new album.) But it turns out that she had told at least three friends of mine at work about how irresponsible we've been about the litter and even said to Sidney, "That box has not been cleaned in at least twenty four hours!" Holy hell, sound the alarms! But not only that, she's been talking about Don. Telling Drew that if he wasn't going to look for a job, then at least he could mow the lawn and clean the house up. She's even gone so far recently as to say to some people that he isn't even trying to find work. Now, I have several problems with this. First and foremost, his finding a job or not is absolutely none of her business. Secondly, he is finding a job. It isn't that one can just snap their fingers and be employed. Not like being a stripper. He's trying to find real work. And thirdly, her house was a complete unmowed mess before we arrived. It's Don's job to clean up after the two of us. Not her. So I was pretty rattled about that whole ordeal, so I called Don, and he bought Tidy Cats Small Spaces litter (which does WONDERS) and completely cleaned out the box.
That night before we left to go home, Pandora came to me to tell me that the litter box will HAVE to be moved to my room (seriously no where to put it) and that it's just too unbearable. I assured her that the box was changed, and we bought nice new expensive litter that other girls were singing about. But her response was "No it's not even that, it's just too awful. That cats won't even go in the box they're so disgusted." (She told several people this. When Don checked for the offending floor shit, he found a hairball near the cat box.) After saying all this she quickly left, and I went home not long after, angry and perplexed. When we got home, she came to me and said that she was having a bad day and that we'd figure something out about the box. Then she went to bed, and we angrily shrugged it off.
Not long after, I kept hearing of her saying basically the same things at work. We'd been cleaning to box nearly every day and using some Febreze Air Effects to it's fullest. We still haven't encountered her much at home since she was normally awake and out somewhere before we got up. And then it was time for Dragon*Con. We went, played for four days, and came home for good. Then I get to work to hear about how she'd been complaining about how Dragon Con wasn't her priority (whatever that means) and that we hadn't touched the box the whole time we'd been there. An out and out lie. Because we made a point to shut her up about it. We clean that thing now more than I've ever cleaned a box. And not only that, she'd told several other people (anyone who'd listen really) about how we don't clean it for weeks and that Don wasn't even trying to find a job. I haven't heard form or encountered her since, but if I hear one more telling of her instigated drama, I think I'm going to politely ask her if she'd like us to leave.
I really thought she wanted us here to help her in not losing her house, but it seems that that isn't the case. And I'd much rather Don and I live on our own in the city. I haven't felt welcome since we arrived, and I really feel she should worry more about her car being nearly repossessed than a litter box. And I'm certain the smell she insists on being floored by is the rotting trash in the garage...
But maybe I'm just bitter. I'm a big push over as most of you know, but I'm being pushed to the edge. It's one thing to complain about something to people. But to go on and exaggerate over and over to other people about things she has no business worrying about or even do so without coming to me about it first and foremost, is just ridiculous.
So here's me returning the favor and complaining. Though I'm not doing it to any of her friends. And I will confront her the next time I hear of a problem.
Ugghhh....