I try to see the positive in every situation. Once again; stop fucking laughing. I do! So even though things here in Aurghville haven’t been necessarily pleasant (to say the very least), I’ve been trying to figure out what I’m getting out of the situation. I find that even the shittiest things that happen in life happen for a reason. Perhaps it is just to give you clarification on how no matter how shite life can get, it can get worse. Perhaps there’s some sort of lesson you can learn (other than how life is a pile of poop sometimes).
Wait a second… what’s with all the fecal talk here? Why is all this poop just slipping (ew) into my writing? Has something happened lately in the septic tank that is my flat that I’m just warming up to?
Oh yah. Something has. And the Denizens of Aurghville sink to a new low! Well done, my turdy little flatmates!
But let me finish warming you up for this. And for me… can’t write stories with cold fingers and a slow mind. I was talking about finding the silver lining in this noxious cloud of a living situation. What have I learned from being here?
Certainly not patience. And not tolerance. I already knew how much I hated people that don’t show respect for other people’s space. I already thought that other people weren’t as clean as I am. What could it be?
I’ve been worried that I’m just finding out that I can’t live with other people. London is far too expensive to live on one’s own. And one day I may want to do the whole matrimony and motherhood thing which I understand involves living with other people
Settle, moms. I said “one day” and “may” which is not the same as making a plan. So don’t start picking out baby clothes or anything.
::END SIDE NOTE::
So I would hate to find out that I’m now incapable of living with others. I don’t think that is it though. I will do my best, however, to never ever live with strangers again. That may be the lesson I needed to learn. Don’t jump into things that actually matter… like committing to living with idiotic people you will have to share a bathroom with.
Sigh. It is always the bathroom with these people.
I promise I’ll tell you guys some of the other stuff I tolerate some day: the inside of the microwave is a story worthy of a science publication focused on exploring new territory for emerging ecosystems. ‘Cause there seems to be some freaky-ass shit growing in there.
Or I don’t think I’ve mentioned that there is a moth problem in my room. Oh yah, moths. A moth infestation is all kinds of awesome. There are moth carcasses all over the walls because they don’t squish cleanly. And even if I wipe the wall after I moider them, there is still some sort of moth remnant on the wall to mark the fallen. Moths. Sick.
But once again I’d like to focus on the bathroom. Because we’ve hit a new low. Which is pretty amazing… you know. Considering who we are dealing with.
First, I need to tell you guys that I’m not the only one withholding loo roll these days. The couple that lives here are also keeping paper in their room because they are sick of buying it all the time. As far I can tell, it’s been Captain Tuberculosis’ turn to buy the toilet paper since time immortal. And I don’t think she’s actually bought any; the size of the toilet rolls that do show up occasionally are industrial. I think the little cretin is stealing it from work once in awhile. Class act, that one.
Yesterday when I first got home I noticed there was no TP when I went in to pee, which no longer concerns me because I’m using my own.
I just realised a rather terrible side effect of me relaying the Chronicles: Y’all are hearing WAY too much about my toilet habits.
::END SIDE NOTE::
Before bed I went back in to pee one last time (no midnight tinkle trips for me!) and was stunned by what I think I saw.
I say “think” because once again, I didn’t do any close examinations or anything. And I was grossed out enough by this one (yah, after everything else… I’ve even seen another wee puddle that may have been spit again – gahhh!!) that I couldn’t even react.
There was still no TP in the toilet.
But there was poop once again left in the toilet because some stupid son of a bitch doesn’t understand how the fuck the toilet brush works.
Sorry. Sorry! The cursing. But I’m baffled about this. Look: poop happens. It happens to everyone (except me… I perform an act of immaculate excretion – true story). Everyone poops. And sometimes nasty things happen when people poop (I assume, as previously mentioned I personally have no first-hand experience). Toilets clog. Poop doesn’t feel like getting flushed. Poop is sometimes ill-timed. Many, many things can go wrong socially when it comes to pinching a loaf. But the thing is… the thing I don’t understand about these people… is that I believe most people try to cover up their poop tracks a little bit. So if you stink up the toilet, you strike a match. If you clog the toilet, you plunge. If you get poop stuck up all the side of the toilet, you swipe a brush through that mo-fo.
YOU USE THE BRUSH.
Not my flatmates. It’s like they are proud of their sticky, stinky accomplishment and want the world to know what they’ve done. There doesn’t seem to be any other reason for leaving it like that. Because the brush is right. beside. the. fucking. toilet.
Deep breath. Okay, so you get the point. Someone pooped.
Remember I said there was no toilet paper earlier in the evening? There was still no toilet paper later that night, post poop.
That raises some interesting questions right there. Because unless there is some sort of secret, hidden bidet… well, there was no toilet paper. Now, I don’t poop, but I understand you need to clean up somehow when you do. How’d they wipe? Or are they not sure of the entire pooping process? They don’t know you can brush the inside of the toilet clean; perhaps they don’t know that you don’t have to walk around with shit stuck to your ass, either. Who knows? We aren’t dealing with the world’s brightest crayons in the box here.
Now, I can imagine what you are thinking: Okay, the ponderance of whether or not they wiped their ass is pretty gross… but not as gross as Capt. Tuberculosis trying to hock a loogie up from somewhere in the vicinity of her feet, the cup of moldy toothbrushes or the spit on the floor. And you are right. This isn’t number one on the list. Yet. But I’m not done the story. Lord help me, I’m not done the story.
It wasn’t the poop in the toilet or the lack of TP that was the low point, guys. No, no. No no no no no. Oh God, no.
It was what was on the wall.
Or what I think was on the wall. Because I hope it wasn’t what it looked like. Please, no. No no no no no. Oh God, no.
Let me outline what I think happened. I think one of the wee dumb-dumbs (I’m voting for Capt. TB, that seems most likely to me) sat and pooped without looking to see if we had toilet paper. Then they didn’t know what to do when they realised that there wasn’t any TP (and judging by the state of the toilet it was a big, sticky ‘un). Now, this is where I hope I’m wrong, but I can’t figure out how else one of those idiots managed to get shit on the wall.
I think whoever it was… they tried wiping with their own hand. And as they stood up they lost their balance a wee bit and touched the wall – maybe with the palm of their hand – as they stood up. And managed to get some poop on the wall before going to (I freaking hope) wash their hand.
Poop. On the wall. Why is that infinitely more disturbing than (potentially) poop beside a puddle of (suspected) spit on the floor?
I would have left it there, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t go in the bathroom and not stare at it. I couldn’t use the toilet and risk rubbing my shoulder against that wall (the toilet is really close to the wall). So that was one win for Team Denizen: I washed the poop. Off the wall.
Oh yah. I’ve definitely learned not to live with strangers anymore. Strangers = danger. It was true when I was four. It is true now. They can’t be trusted.
Poop. On the wall. I hate these fucking people.