I have a mouse living with me. Well, I think it’s just one.
This unwanted guest has found its way into too many things for me to idly sit back as I watch it scurry under my door behind my dresser. It goes through my shoe boxes somehow and has made quite the next for itself out of the paper inside them. I found this nest while packing for a trip and the mouse was sleeping in it. Needless to say it was gone for a few days, but by the time I came back from Florida, it got comfortable in a few more places than I had hoped.
Yesterday I finally had enough. Even while running a fever and with a deadly cough I went out for some traps. I refuse to pick up a nasty dead thing so I got one of those ultrasonic noise emitters that scare them away. So while I did put some traps in other places, as long as it stays out of my shit, I don’t care if it lives or dies. Haven’t seen it since so, success so far…
I feel like I’ve always had an issue with intruders in my personal space. My mom would randomly go through my things at home and at college you can’t really decide who your roommate brings in. Sophomore year I roomed with the RA and it totally sucked. If she wasn’t sleeping (she had mono and NEVER TOLD ME) she had the RA from the other side of the floor over all the time. He was an annoying little guy that was the president of a frat that every girl referred to as “the rapist club”, so he was obviously a stand up guy. I’m aware that my sleep during the day schedule isn’t normal, but even if she was asleep during the day I would take my friends into the common area and be real quiet. Not her. And who would I complain to? Her? Nope. I moved out.
My next roommate would have random guys over multiple days of the week and have sex with them while I was sleeping. Or while she thought I was sleeping. Thank god we had a half wall from the desks or else I might’ve killed myself.
My last roommate at college was a friend. Still is! I can’t say I loved her while we were roommates, she’s a loud eater and it’s a pet peeve y’all. But she was hardly ever there since her boyfriend lived down the hall. But some night he would stay over in our room and oh my god. He snores. So. Loud. And it was just there! In his own room theres no record of it! One particularly terrible week for tests and papers, myself and her boyfriend had tests at the same time one day. We were both up for a good 36 hours and the motivation was to do so well on the test and get out quick, and to sleep immediately after. Unfortunately for me he beat me to the punch and was sleeping in my roommate’s bed. Snoring his fucking ass off. I let this go, went to hang out with people for a few hours, thinking he would get up soon. Nope. Fifteen hours later he awoke.
I was so pissed, so tired I couldn’t even see straight. I wrote a very very angry livejournal (hay high school!) entry about it and planned on addressing it later. I mean, the second he woke up I went to sleep for a long ass time. So I didn’t realize that by the time I woke up, this rant had been seen. I got a few passive aggressive remarks from the boyfriend but hey, I got my wish of him never sleeping in the room again.
While on my internship I had two absentee roommates, the best kind, and one horrific one. She would answer phone calls in bed at 4am and stay on the phone for hours. She was also smelly. One time she came back to the apartment with a friend early in the morning, carrying on a conversation. Her friend entered our room first and whispers, “OH I didn’t know your roommate was sleeping”! To which my roommate replied, “Does it look like I care”? That’s just a taste of what I endured for five months. And I’m not a bad roommate! I’m quiet, clean and try to stay out of the room as much as possible to give you your space. I don’t deserve this!
I guess I’m just destined to live alone. Hopefully not forever, spinster isn’t a good look for anyone. I gave my brother a lot of slack when he moved out because he could’ve had a wonderful apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan if he just had a roommate. But he was all I want to be all alone in Queens. Seems silly but I get it after looking over my past. This will most likely be the case for me, as if I moved in with anyone I know I can almost guarantee it would not last and I would permanently damage a friendship. My selfish and possessive attitude rears its ugly head one too many times. So being alone would actually help my relationships I think. Yet another aspect of my life that makes total, complete sense. Siiiigh.
