Welcome to Midweek Musings, where I take the random, chaotic, and occasionally profound thoughts from my journal and throw them into the void (aka your inbox). Think of it as a peek inside my brain — except I’ve filtered out the truly unhinged stuff (you’re welcome).
Some musings will be deep, some will be ridiculous, and some will make you wonder if I should get more sleep. Either way, I felt like they needed to be shared, and now they’re your problem too. Enjoy!
Last week’s edition:
I am writing this at my kitchen table while listening to a friend’s voice note out loud on my phone. This feels weird for me, like I’m being a nuisance to the other roommate whose room is right off this one.
I moved into this house on August 1, 2024. My previous roommate found this room on Roomies.com, which was the same way both of us had found rooms in the house we were living in together. We were supposed to move in together, something else worked out a lot better for her, and I still ended up moving in. I admit, I was enticed by the ridiculously low rent, even by Las Vegas standards. When I’d toured the house, it didn’t look as bad as it normally does so I thought that with some TLC, I would be able to do what I normally do which is turn this house into a home.
Well, I was fucking wrong and the past six months of living in this house has been a headache. For starters, my roommate is the most disgusting person I’ve ever met. His feet are so dirty, he leaves black footprints around the house after walking through a puddle of something he’s spilled yet refuses to clean up. When I first moved in, the entire downstairs was covered in ashes from his black and milds that he didn’t care to get ashtrays for. The kitchen has been infested with ants more than it hasn’t. He steals my food and then says it's not him or his girlfriend when there is literally no one else in the house it could possibly be. I once found a (metal!) fork of mine on the counter with one of the tines broken off. I’ve also found my knife on his bed where he purposely bent the tip. When I asked him about this, he said it was his knife (there were no knives in this house when I moved in, which is why I purchased one) and also asked me for the money to replace it even though he broke it. Just last week, most of my eggs were broken by him and he also used my entire gallon of milk.
And yet, even through all of this, I still worry about taking up too much space in a house that has barely been made to feel like a home. No one in this house has ever done anything but gaslight me, waste my money, and be inconsiderate of common spaces and the way in which they’re leaving them. I try to give people grace — sometimes people have never had to live with others outside of their own family and may be unfamiliar with what is deemed proper co-living etiquette, whereas I have been sharing spaces with people since I was 12 years old in orphanages and group homes. But, after maybe three months of living here, it became very obvious to me that he just doesn’t care about anyone other than himself.
This has been a good practice in confidence for me. I don’t get along with these people nor do I want to. However, I have just as much of a right to be here as they do. I’ve contributed more than they have to the cleanliness of the house and although I refuse to waste any more of my energy doing so in my last two weeks here, I think that actually makes me have more of a right to enjoy the common spaces than they do (My ego deserves this one thing…it’s been a long 6 months).
I’ve been making a lot more noise lately — not beyond the scope of what is appropriate for a shared home, but enough that makes me feel like I am enjoying the home I pay to live in. I’ve been laughing at the TV and listening to music on a higher volume than normal. I have fun with my boyfriend and cackle loudly with him while we dance. Overall, I am choosing to see the lesson in the time I’ve spent in this nasty ass trap house during my final stretch here. But bro…cannot wait to be living in my own space with no one else but my boyfriend and our cats in a few weeks. It's going to be so much more peaceful and I can’t wait to leave my room without feeling like I’m going to get talked at for 30 minutes by a white girl who said her friend was “related to the Cherokee princess”!!!!
Welcome to Midweek Musings, where I take the random, chaotic, and occasionally profound thoughts from my journal and throw them into the void (aka your inbox). Think of it as a peek inside my brain — except I’ve filtered out the truly unhinged stuff (you’re welcome).
Some musings will be deep, some will be ridiculous, and some will make you wonder if I should get more sleep. Either way, I felt like they needed to be shared, and now they’re your problem too. Enjoy!