(Firstly, this is going to be a bit of a rant and for that I apologise profusely. Or maybe you realise I am a serial ranter and won't mind. But before I start I just wanted to thank you all for your music recommendations yesterday and I will definitely be checking them all out - I'll keep you updated on what ones stick with me! Okay, now that's out the way, let's get ranting...)
Obviously, I've already covered some flatshare-related issues that have been niggling at me recently. The toilet paper issue - that was a big one. And the (same) loud flatmate. Another biggie.
The toilet paper issue has MAINLY been resolved for now. But only because one of my friends took me shopping and I bought a big pack of it, which we stash in our little kitchen so no one knows how much we have, and bring out one roll at a time as needed. The noise issue . . . it's still ongoing.
Not only is it LOUD, but there has been a recent trend for door-slamming. I mentioned this before but it's got WORSE!!! Now, I'm ALL for a door-slam or two when it's to prove a point in an argument. But this is virtually ALL THE TIME!!! It's not even the NOISE of the door-slamming that bothers me. It's the fact that the wall shakes and, since my bed is next to the wall, and I spend a lot of time on my bed (because I'm lazy, not cos I'm like a whore or anything like that! If only...), this means that PAULA shakes too. (I don't really like it when the earth moves in a BAD way...) It tends to only happen when The Boyfriend is here, which makes me think it's HIM who is the culprit - but that makes it even worse. Hogs the toilet (she was moaning at him to get out of there the other night AGAIN - seriously what DOES he do in there? Yoga? Meditation? A really massive DUMP???) AND slams the door??? He seems a nice enough guy but come ON - a bit of fucking consideration for others wouldn't go amiss!
Okay, so my NEXT little gripe. The bathroom lightbulb conked out over the weekend. This would have been fine if I'd been planning on going outside that weekend. I would have had no problem picking up a lightbulb somewhere. But I wasn't. On the other hand, other flatmates were quite clearly in and out of the flat and could have easily picked up a bulb. Did they? Er - that would be a no. No problem. I took my phone to the loo with me so I could use it as a light, and made sure I showered on Sunday during the day because no chance was I showering in the dark. No chance to get a bulb on Monday as I met up with friends after work and didn't get home til eleven pm. Got home and there was still no light. I was meeting Mich on Tuesday after work and wasn't sure when I would get home - but I guess I had a feeling that once again no one would bother their arse to get a new lightbulb. Apart from Paula the Walkover. Which is why me and Mich ended up in Somerfield in the city centre shortly before ten so I could buy a lightbulb. Not just a lightbulb. An ENERGY SAVING LIGHTBULB because if I bought a normal one, you can guarantee that my landlord would just so happen to pay a visit the next day and replace it anyway, thus rendering me spending any money pointless.
So I got home, drunkenly changed the lightbulb (thankfully the ceiling in that bathroom isn't as high as the ceilings in the rest of the flat!) and that was that.
Although part of me resentfully thought "Why did I have to be the one to do it? Couldn't anyone else have at least THOUGHT about doing it?"
The next night when I got home, there did not appear to be a soul in the flat . . . BUT SOME FUCKER HAD LEFT THAT BATHROOM LIGHT ON. WASTING MY MONEY!!!
(I have rage issues, clearly! But COME ON!!!)
Next issue. The MORON who keeps leaving the window in the other kitchen open. WIDE OPEN. Not merely ajar. A PLUS-SIZE BIRD OF PREY could get in with no problems, that how bloody wide open it is.
It. Is. January.
Come on, it's not like we're renowned for having warm weather!
I cannot actually put into words how INSANE this is!!!
I love my flatshare. I love its location (the west end of Glasgow was a place I always wanted to live since my student days and I don't regret moving to the area at all), I love my room. I've had worse flatmates in the six and a half years I've lived here. (I've had far BETTER ones too though!) I wouldn't have stayed here all this time if I didn't like it. (I'm not THAT lazy.) But when shit like this happens . . . I just wish I had a plentiful savings account, could put down a sizeable deposit on a flat and get the hell out of there. Buying a place terrifies me, but the idea of things actually being my OWN . . . that's tempting. I wouldn't have to cope with anyone else's mess, anyone else's selfishness . . . I wouldn't need to worry about running into random strangers in the hall, of my landlord coming around and trying to talk to me when I'm in the bath, of my flatmate drunkenly splitting her head open in the middle of the night then deciding to get drunk while she is concussed and under my care, of the possibility that the police might turn up again and appear in the middle of MY room in the middle of the night next time . . .
Life might not be as interesting to BLOG about, but it certainly would be a bit easier on my stress and/or rage levels . . .