I’ve always known that I’m a messy person, but I didn’t realize just how much I spread out my belongings until every single one of my housemates brought it up to me as they cleaned up my mess. Even with a household chore list and designated weeks for taking out the trash, I still find myself falling back into my ways of what I like to call “nesting”. How am I supposed to feel comfortable in my first ever apartment if I can’t keep my shoes by the door and various Ancient Greek text books on the coffee table? Am I really living in a space if there isn’t at least three strands of my hair on every piece of furniture? I don’t think so.
Living in an apartment is a sort of rite of passage. Of course, I don’t have to pay for rent or utilities or wifi, and living in an Acland means I have in-house laundry, so by all means it is nowhere near as difficult as real adult apartment life, but learning to live with more than just one person can be interesting. Sure, I’m living with four of my best friends, but hanging out with people is a lot more different than living with them. While living in an apartment, you develop a level of intimacy unparalleled with any other kind of friendship, which can only be described using the term “pseudo-sibling.” Not a day goes by that we don’t do some sort of embarrassing dance, or scream gibberish at each other, or sit on each other (even with a perfectly good couch cushion right next to them).
But because we are practically siblings, there is also quite a bit of squabbling. If someone isn’t getting made fun of, something must be wrong. I like to think that my biggest flaw is my La Croix habit, but I know it’s the fact that I only wash dishes once a month, despite our agreement to all wash our own dishes. Of course I am not the only one with flaws. One of my housemates does the worst Yogi Bear impression I’ve ever heard, and he insists on inserting it into at least one conversation a day. Another housemate makes mac and cheese late at night and then finds herself unable to finish the task of consuming it all. But our quirks make our friendship stronger as well as give us more material for making fun of each other.
Even with all of our faults, I wouldn’t choose to live with any other group of people. No one else makes me laugh like they do, or knows how to pick me up when I’m down. There are no other faces I would rather see after a long day of classes and meetings. And even when I’m annoyed about the long line for the ONE bathroom that we have, I have to remember that at the end of the day, I love these people. At this point I’m convinced I can never live alone, and if I did, I would be extremely bored and be missing a lot of love from my life.