How to be a good roommate to Anittah Patrick
I’m trying to be a better Buddhist and, in reflecting over my thoughts and actions, realize that sometimes I get judgy & jerky towards people for no good reason (not having an encyclopedic knowledge of online marketing, for example). It’s not like other humans are running around trying to make my day bad; for me to continue in these kinds of thought-patterns are frankly megalomaniacal. Duh, the world does not revolve around me. And anyway, I sincerely believe that most people don’t want to be ass-hats; they oftentimes simply don’t realize how their behaviors trigger my memories of being a dependent child with distracted parents who didn’t pay enough attention to me vex me.
So it is in this spirit that under category “Being” I’ll start posting some “How To” guides. (I may have subconsciously been influenced by Todd Seavey’s charming personal ad and so must give a nod in his direction.)
That said, here’s my advice for how to be a good roommate to Anittah Patrick. It’s well-timed, as I decided on my commute today that I’m going to move into my living room for reals and pimp out my bedroom for a full-time roommate. Trials and tribulations aside during this three-week test run, making do is going to be more cost-effective (monetarily and emotionally) than moving to Jackson Heights, Queens (alluring as it would be to live in the same building as my friends Frankie & Lt. Jim). Plus, it’ll help me learn to be a better cavewoman.
- Please don’t lie about your lover coming “just for a visit.” I’m looking for a roommate, not roommates, and anyone who is around on average more than two or three times a week better kick in on utilities and toilet paper.
- Please let me know if you break something. I understand that accidents happen and there’s no reason to hide it. Most stuff I won’t care about, but you should exercise lots of care around my Lomonosov porcelain as it was purchased in Piter and will be difficult for you to replace. Which is what I will require you to do.
- Please don’t ask me for clean towels. I put all the clean towels in the white bucket or wicker basket in the bathroom. That’s it. Eyeball the supply and ration accordingly. My laundering and thus replenishment of the stockpile is irregular but if you ever find yourself in a bind, there’s a laundry room on the ground floor that’s available twenty four hours a day, seven days a week (thirty minutes in the dryer on high will do the trick).
- Please rinse your dish before sticking it in the dishwasher. I don’t need you to pull an Anittah’s Mom and clean the darn thing entirely before subjecting it to automated washing. Just take one of the four brushes and splash some water around. Soap is great but just do what you can to get the crusty grains of rice off and minimize the thickness of the garlic sauce gunked to the side of the bowl. But thank you for putting it in the dishwasher to begin with. (By the way: when the magnet is “Virgin”-side up, the dishes are clean; “Slut”-side up means they’re dirty.)
- If you yank the curtain wire out of the wall, I expect you to fix it and/or pay someone else to.
- Please don’t use my towel. No, that is not a hand towel hanging up on the back of the door for your grubby mitts; it’s my face towel for my grimy mug.
- Please take out your own recycling, especially if you are prone to purchasing multi packs of beer and/or carbonated beverages. The recycling is in the hallway of the laundry room. I’ll take some down if I have the arm-space to do so, but carting down the stack of unsolicited Daily Newses usually keeps my limbs at capacity.
- Please don’t stack things on the Lucite console in the entryway. It scratches easily.
- If your trash has topped off the trash bag, empty it. The trash chute is down the hall, second door on the right as you’re walking towards the elevators.
- Please be considerate regarding the amount of foodstuffs you jam into the fridge. Related: if you see moldy food of mine, please feel free to chuck and know that I will do the same with yours.
- Please let me know if I am doing something to annoy you. You can leave me a note in the blender if you’re too shy to say something in person.
- Please feel free to use the kitchen. When you are as socially maladapted as I am, you get lonely.
And now all you lovely readers get to tell me just how insane I am.
