Q&A: Dirtiest Place

Where is the dirtiest place you’ve ever been?

This one’s easy.  My last apartment.

I’m not the cleanest person in the world, but I am particular about things.  I can handle some clutter, and sometimes I’ll leave the dishes from one nights supper till the next day because I’m lazy.  But I take out my garbage on a regular basis and I won’t leave food laying around, and I try and keep my place reasonably clean.  My current apartment is fairly well organized, and it’s pretty clean.  There’s some clutter in my closet and I need to unload the dishwasher.  Beyond that it’s pretty decent.

This is not my apartment, but I do have a fireplace and a cat.

This is not my apartment, but I do have a fireplace and a cat.  This is about how clean it is though.

My last place though?  My roommate was a hoarder.  A hoarder who didn’t seem to care when there was old food sitting on the coffee table.  Or his computer desk.  Or the kitchen counter.  Or stale water sitting in the sink getting disgusting.  Or fruit flies everywhere.  And no matter how many book shelves I brought in there didn’t seem to be enough places for him to keep his well over 1500 dvds/blurays, or his video games, or his comic books.  Or his action figures.  Or his consoles.  You’re getting the point right?  My room contained more of his stuff than mine because there was simply no where else to put it.  I didn’t have a goddamn floor!

It looked like this pretty much, only replace all the clothes with hundreds and hundreds of dvds

It looked like this pretty much, only replace all the clothes with hundreds and hundreds of dvds.  Though the clothes looked like this too, just only in his room, not the living room.  He literally couldn’t open his own closet because the stack of clothes in front of it was too heavy to move

I tried, time and a-fucking-gain to get him to throw some stuff out.  But every time he did trade in some old video games, he just bought more.  And he NEVER got rid of any movies.  I wanted some fucking space goddammit!  I couldn’t even get him to stop leaving out food he half ate.  My coffee table (all the furniture (and dishes) in the apartment except the couch and his bed was mine.  Including ‘his’ computer desk and chair.  I didn’t take a single piece of furniture with me when I left.  Everything I owned fit in my car aside from the furniture so I let him keep it) was always covered in fast food wrappers and old chicken strips.  On the rare occasion he did clean (only when his mother was coming.  He didn’t even clean for his girlfriend.  I never brought people over and it wasn’t my mess, so I kept a square of my room that was only my things clean and nothing else) it would look like he’d never cleaned at all within a week.

I lived with him a lot longer than I should have, but I couldn’t afford to not have a roommate, I was too stubborn to move back in with my parents, and I didn’t have anyone else to move in with.  But now I live alone.  And I am incredibly thankful for that.

Check out The Llama’s response to this question (which will seem familiar, but I assure you she’s not talking about me.  I was actually there to help him move.  It’s just an odd coincidence.)


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