Tuesday, June 22, 2010

I Really Want to Title This, "...And God Said Let There Be Light!" But I'm Better Than That

I can already see living with Boyfriend is going to be a problem. Yesterday, after a weekend trip to his hometown (which was loads of fun), we came back to his house. Only three of his four (five if you count the pill addict who is currently in rehab) roommates are living there this summer yet they were able to take the kitchen from reasonable to repulsive in a matter of five days. Before we left on Thursday, Boyfriend and I had put a load of dishes in the dishwasher (seriously! a dishwasher! they should never have dirty dishes!), wiped down the kitchen and made it look like a place where you may be able to spend more than ten seconds without wearing a SARS mask. When I entered the kitchen upon my return, however, I was hit with a stench reminiscent of a cheap whore house that also specialized in harboring week old fish. Beer cans littered the counter tops and garbage bags expelled their contents in every corner. Empty pizza and beer boxes were everywhere and a variety of unidentifiables hung from the ceiling. I wouldn't have been surprised if used condoms were sprinkled around this future home of mine. A gag escaped me and I immediately exited the vicinity, demanding Boyfriend deliver me a glass of water since his presence deep in the kitchen proved that he was immune to its foulness.

So I have a lot on my plate with that area alone. But these boys are not only content to live in a sty (I should note here that I am a complete slob and regularly leave both clean and dirty clothes EVERYWHERE. Living room, kitchen, bathroom, other's bedrooms...basically wherever I drunkenly disrobe), they also have an aversion to light. Lights go out in their house and they never, ever get changed. They're just like, "OH HEY Light, you all done here? No Prob! In LIGHT of your memory, we won't replace you...out of respect." At least, that's what I assume they're thinking because it would be ABSURD to assume that someone might want light right? Right??

Because their current light situation is this:
● In their gigantic upstairs bathroom, which needs a great deal of light, there are two, tiny, above-the-sink lights. They provide just enough light for one to maneuver oneself over the toilet without peeing on the floor. The lack of light in this room is actually a blessing because it disguises the filth pot that is the toilet.
● The living room has two, spotlight-style lights, creating two well-lit circles surrounded by a deep black abyss. Very welcoming.
● The kitchen has a similar set up as the aforementioned black hole living room. The kitchen, however, has THREE lights! Woo!
● There are no lights in the section of the basement that you have to walk through to get to the laundry. To do a load, you must carefully sidle along pieces of rejected and broken exercise equipment, praying that you've had your latest tetanus shots. After making it through the Graveyard of Fitness, continue on past unused table games and unrecycled boxes and hope that you don't face plant. Reward yourself by washing your clothes.
● Not that it matters at this point but none of the outside lights work either. For a normal person this means fumbling around in the dark for your keys when you're trying to get in the door at night but for me it means repeatedly calling Boyfriend until he lets me in. It's a win-win situation.

Maybe the eternal bleakness of their home wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have an extended history of nyctophobia coupled with eisoptrophobia. This dates back to that fucking terrifying Bloody Mary game which mentally prevented me from looking in a mirror between the ages of 9 and 13. In middle school, I started to ease up and would look at mirrors if lights were on but still avoided them in the dark. I still get nervous by an unlit room with a mirror. Boyfriend's house has mirrors EVERYWHERE. So don't be surprised when one of my posts is titled "Why I Shit Myself When I Caught My Reflection in a Darkened Mirror."

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