It’s the time of the year when you realize your living situation just isn’t working out. Maybe it’s not necessarily your roommate that’s the issue, but the place you’re living in itself. Either way, both reasons are valid to consider a new place to live that’s right for you. Before this Halloween, I was lucky to escape some horrors in my previous living situation. I wanted to share it with my readers because there are living situations even worse than mine, and some people aren’t as lucky to get out as fast as I did.
Honestly, moving out is the only solution. There is no other option.
Not everyone is perfect to live with. Some people are messy, some are irresponsible, and some are just lazy. My old roommates, on the other hand, were a mix of all three. They didn’t care about anything as long as the rent was paid.
There were other problems, though, that I don’t think they ever took into account.
My first problem was the distance.
I had a busy schedule: two work-study jobs, my photography business, homework and classes, then all the activities I was involved in made for a busy week. Every morning before my work-study, I walked the four blocks to the shuttle stop, and then I’d take the bus to campus. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but sometimes I’d come home at midnight. Because there would be no street lights on the road, I’d get scared. I always called my friends when I walked from the shuttle to my house. The worst days were when it rained because I’d be stuck at East Lake Apartments. I usually waited it out. The one time I asked my roommates for help, however, they said they were too intoxicated.
There was one roommate who helped me out sometimes, though. She gave me a few rides and she cleared out space on her food shelf for me. But this wasn’t enough to help me feel comfortable enough to stay any longer. The commute took time and it got tiring. I needed to find a place closer to campus—always consider distance when you’re moving. Even if you have a car, it’s a struggle to find good parking spots every day.
The second problem was the poop.
When I told my friends my living situation was “sh*tty,” I was not joking.
My old house had two dogs—one, being a puppy.
One dog barked a lot, but that was really the only thing that got on my nerves with him.
The other dog, the puppy, however, I truly felt bad for him. His owner never took good care of him: she was never at home, even though she was the one who took a gap year off from school; she was never there to take him out for walks or let him out of the room. She didn’t have a kettle for him, and when I suggested it, she said it “wasn’t needed.” This puppy pooped out on the living room floor, next to my bedroom and bathroom doors, and my roommate didn’t clean it up until the other girls had to actually drive out to get her from some party.
I cannot emphasize this more clearly: don’t get a pet if you can’t take care of yourself.
This happened about two or three times while I lived there. The worst time was when this same puppy also went through the bathroom’s trash and ripped through a girl’s pad and left it torn on the couch. I locked myself in my bedroom and didn’t go back out until I heard someone else finally clean it up. And let me just tell you, it wasn’t the pup’s owner who cleaned it up.
The third problem was cleanliness.
The first time I suggested to my roommates cleaning schedule, they fired back at me saying they were clean, and my concerns were “whack.” There are a couple of examples I remember, one being breadcrumbs all over the corner of the counter, which took them forever to clean up. Another was just all the items and dog toys lying on the floor in the living room, which was right next to my bedroom. Finally, the basement, which was already dirty, overflowed with blankets and towels thrown at the bottom of the stairs—I cannot even express how unsanitary that was.
It was a month. Nothing was changing and the girls accused me of stealing their things when the last thing I wanted to do was touch any of their stuff. At that point, I really thought it was best for me to move out. I thought of the benefits that included me living close to campus and no longer living with dog poop next to my room. If the old place was closer to school, I would’ve considered staying and trying to fix how things were with the girls, but once I announced I was moving, the level of toxicity spread quicker than wildfire.
When the girls found someone to move in, I was ecstatic. I had only been looking at a few other places, but there was one house that I had in mind the most. It was a little bit more expensive, but it was closer to campus and on the side closer to downtown. My bedroom had hardwood floors, bigger in size, and no longer located by the living area. Two bedrooms were in the basement and three were upstairs.
The girls were really nice, too—I actually knew one from a class last year whom I had gotten along with very well. I absolutely loved the place I moved into and it’s only three houses down from two of my best friends who I plan to live with next year.
My previous roommates had cut me off, which was probably for the best. Some were acting immature, paying me one cent on Venmo just to tell me I was being childish. The weekend I was moving out, I realized how terrible they truly were. I’d hoped maybe we could be civil, but obviously that wasn’t the case.
I told them I was moving throughout Homecoming weekend. I started moving my stuff Thursday and when I came back to the house, they had left all my kitchenware and food I went back for outside my door. To me, it was just an unnecessary petty act. They knew I was coming back for my stuff, and there was no reason to toss all my things to the side the way they did.
The last day I went to my old house to collect my last things was the spookiest. I came to the realization how dangerous my roommates were. I left my bedroom door locked beforehand, so when I came back I thought it was strange that my door was unlocked. I wondered for a second that maybe I didn’t lock it until I turned around and staring back at me was my whiteboard that had been written on with the words “go” and “bye.”
Not only was this vandalism, but burglary by breaking into my bedroom. I wasn’t going to share it, but even my mom told me that she was thankful I was moving out. It was no longer a safe space for me. I pray for those dogs now because having feces all over the house isn’t good for anyone to breathe in, even the dogs themselves. This is a fact and it also counts as animal abuse. I also genuinely hope things go well with the new girl who moved in. Hopefully, these girls learned their lesson and will be extra careful.
I know that I made mistakes myself as a roommate in that house. I regret not actually hanging out with them because I never had the time, but that isn’t something I can do now. I learned a lot from this experience, and I hope no one has to go through this same kind of thing. If you can avoid moving out and try to talk about it, that’s the best thing. Sometimes things don’t work out, though. Make sure to pick a living situation you’re comfortable with. Most of the time, it should be pretty easy to get along with random roommates, which is what I am doing now.
My living situation has greatly improved, and I am in a better living space now.
Make sure to celebrate spooky season accordingly… but don’t live in a “haunted” house with bad spirits!