I Lick My Cheese

I don't actually - this is the title of a book given to me by a very dear friend who is possibly the funniest woman I have the pleasure of knowing. It's a very 'her' gift and it's all about flat sharing. As you may have come to realise, I do live in an interesting house with a lot of interesting people, but often these interesting events get a little bit tiresome, and sometimes make me wish to write notes such as this:

Dear ....

Hope you don't mind me cleaning your damp wank rag off the table. It's just that I was expecting friends round for dinner and they probably think that it's a fucking disgrace that someone would have the audacity to wank in my living room, then wander off like they'd just finished work for the evening. This note serves to close your grubby little episode. It's also your notice to leave the house. In the meantime, put one foot wrong and I'll set fire to your stuff, not even kidding.


Fortunately for me, I haven't had to deal with this sort of shit. However, it comes pretty damn close. Take this evening, for example. I'd been away for the weekend, I'd spent the weekend relaxing, cooking and eating. I also spent a little part of it cleaning up - yes, I'd helped my boyfriend clean his house and do the washing up after having friends round for dinner. Isn't that nice of me? Aren't I a nice person?

Well, no, not really, I just have a bit of decency. Something that, surprisingly, a great number of people seem to lack. I grew up with someone cleaning up after me, which is probably why I am quite a messy person. However, I do know that it's common courtesy to clean up in someone else's home when you make a mess, or at least offer to. Which is why I was pretty pissed off when I got home tonight to find the lounge looking like a modern art exhibition - in a bad way. Dry muesli, bits of Connect Four, empty Subway bags and, strangely, sultanas, were scattered all across the living-room floor like it's the perfectly normal place for them to be. It wasn't my mess, but I cleaned it. It wasn't my other housemate's mess, but she did the washing up. That's normal. What's not normal is to completely ignore the fact that the lounge that YOU or YOUR FRIENDS left in a mess has been cleaned by SOMEONE ELSE and not even bother to acknowledge them.

And here's another note I'd like to write:

I pay the bills. What do you do? This isn't a doss house so could you give me the rent.

It's fair enough to struggle for money when you're a student. You're too busy putting off doing your dissertation and painting props for your student film project to get a job. That's obvious. But when you're a graduate, it's just a little bit pathetic to a) not be working or b) not be actively seeking a job. And, hey, there's always option c) - go on the dole. Yes, I hate it as much as the next guy, but not as much as I hate not being able to pay my electricity because some idiot can't be arsed to do anything constructive with his life.

I actually do love my flatmates (some more than others, admittedly) but it's true what you say about never living with friends. While it's not always a disaster, it's better to stick with what you know, live with people who you've lived with before, people you can scream and shout at and know that they'll love you anyway. And living with people who have been brought up to respect other people is essential too, but sadly, in my four years of experience, a rarity indeed.