Almost everybody has had a bad roommate, right? The guy who left the toilet seat up, the girl who never hung up the towels so they’d dry, or the one who was perpetually late with their half of the rent. You know the type. Well, I have one, and I’ve had enough.
First, a bit of backstory. I got back from Iraq this past March and recieved temporary housing at my base. Now, Air Force dorms aren’t bad, but they’re small. Seeing as I wasn’t sure if I was going to remain at Shaw, or move on to another posting, I wasn’t going to apply to get real housing (plus, I’m single, and going to get out in a few months anyway, so the dorms it is.) Two days back home, and I’m in touch with one of my oldest friends, lets call him Michael (or just Mike.) Well, Mike, being the great guy he is, is about to go homeless due to no fault of his own (well, he failed to plan. The two folks he was rooming with got married and moved on him. He could swing his apartment for only two months on his own.) So, after an evening of swilling $1.00 pints at our local hole in the wall, I say “Well Mike, we’ve been friends for years. I’ve got a two bedroom lined up. It’s only $550 ($275/person) a month, plus half of the utilities (it’s all utilities included, save for water/cable/phone.) Hell, that’s less than half of what you were paying living with Pete and Randi.” Facing a hard life on the streets, living out of his ancient red pickumup truck, Mike jumps at the chance. Move-in was Monday, March 21.
Fast foreward to tonight. No rent. He owes me a full month now. No utilities, same deal. Not that he can’t pay. He does have a full time job as an assistant manager at Blockbuster, making close to $11/hr. I know this because I got the info from him before I let him sign on as a member of the ‘household’ on the lease. He’s never brought any food into the apartment. Ever. He’s never washed the towels. Ever. To the best of my knowedge, he hasn’t cleaned any of the common areas in the apartment. He’s never washed any of the dishes. I have to don my body armor and MOPP gear to enter his room to retreive the plates, glasses, and assorted cutlery which accumulate on his computer desk. I worry that he may be a terrorist or something, trying to brew up a weapon in the crusty bowls of microwave chili and glasses of dried Pepsi. Lord knows that after he ‘raids’ the pantry, the next day he becomes a chemical weapon (ok, a less-lethal one, like CS gas.) But flatulance aside, he’s a slob and he steals my beer. That would get most folks thrown out of an apartment in which you are not the leaseholder. Seeing as we’ve been friends forever, I’ve let this ALL slide.
And for the past half hour (starting at 1120pm or so), screaming. Lots of screaming. Oh shit, now it’s two people screaming in the room next to mine. Well, not screaming. Its more of a high pitched moaning punctuated with a nails-on-the-chalkboard “OHMYGODYESYESYES!!!AAAAAEEEEE!!!” Yes, Mike’s girl Sara (her real name. I use it, because otherwise I’d have to drop ‘dirty slut’ on there instead) likes to vocalize when they fuck. She lives in the next town over, so she’s over here three or four nights out of the week (also consuming the apartment’s foodstuffs and drinking my fucking beer, not bothering to replace it.) I won’t say its every time, because it’s not. It’s MULTIPLE TIMES, EVERY FUCKING TIME! In three months, I’ve had perhaps twenty nights of good sleep. I’ve gone so far as to use my ear foamies (41dB rated noise reduction,) and it does not help. I really, really want to go throw them both out, right fucking now. I’ve had enough.
I can’t keep food in the place, it’s often a sty (as I’m on duty six days a week, with one day off to launder my BDU’s), some days I can’t find a clean plate, I’m being nibbled to death by his not paying his share of the bills, I’m losing sleep, can’t bring my girlfriend over, and frankly I’m ready to just lob a grenade in there the next time they wake me in the middle of the night. No, no, that’s illegal. Hmmm…perhaps lobbing an angry Shi-tzu instead? Anyway, thanks for the time.