I'm a Terrible Roommate

I judge my roommates on their trash, despite the fact that I am actually a little paranoid or at least self-conscious about my own trash, and make myself feel better by reassuring myself that nobody would be so crazy as to care what products I use or who sends me junk mail.

I'm a Terrible Roommate

I don't care who's sleeping, garlic is to be smashed, not minced.

I'm a Terrible Roommate

I often let the cat box go for days, or even more than a week, without being scooped. With two cats, that's a lot of stank.

I'm a Terrible Roommate

I frequently feel the urge to vent about some supposed impropriety perpetrated by one or the other of my roommates. But I'm aware that pretty much everyone does things that will get on someone's nerves if they live together, and it has a lot less to do with what the offenses actually are than it does with their being repeated over and over and how you can't really do anything to get away from them.

So I decided that any time one of my dear roomies moves my favorite oven mitt and I'm all full of righteous anger about it, that instead of venting I'll try to put myself in their shoes. I'll think of something I do all the time, obliviously, that might plausibly drive one of them up the wall.

The point isn't too identify personal shortcomings in myself for the sake of fixing them—because really, what are the chances that I accurately stumble across one of the many potentially annoying behaviors that actually bugs one of my roommates—but merely to remind myself that living with relative strangers is always difficult and takes patience.

So with that explanation out of the way, here's the first reason I'm a Terrible Roommate: I never ask my roommates' permission, or even offer a heads-up, before inviting people over, letting friends from out of town crash on the couch, dog-sitting, or any other act of hospitality on my part that could reasonably be understood as a huge imposition on my cohabitants.