I’ve finally lost it. Finally, because there was no way I would love my apartment without any complaints. It was too good to be true. But guess what! It happened! I probably shouldn’t be too happy with the fact that I hate my roommates at this point, but I’m glad I’ve finally found a crack in the foundation of what I imagined my perfect apartment.
I was coming from a delicious, long-lost connection, relaxing, well deserved, did I mention delicious? lunch. I had what used to be my usual Chipotle sofrita’s bowl with guac. I stopped going because they were too slow but today! I had a 3-hour break! My professor decided to give a day off to catch up on the reading. Psh! I’m not gonna spend today on that. What I had envisioned is right after my delicious meal, I would go to my room, lay in bed, read, watch Netflix, and basically relax. But I somehow forgot to put into the equation that I have roommates that are men. Don’t get me wrong, they are some men out there who are very clean, structured, and lack of better words, daddy. My roommates though are in college millennials in 2018. I come in, 12:30, my roommate is eating in the room while on the phone with someone, the other is cooking in the kitchen while playing It’s Sunny in Philadelphia, and the other one is showering with Led Zepplin playing in the background. HOW am I suppose to chill?
I’m now at the point where I knew this day would come: I’m at the library across campus where I know I can chill. Which is not too bad to be honest. There’s AC here. Completly silent. It works out. I just wanted to be in my bed. I’m just hoping it’s not going to be like this every day.
What is it that I’m supposed to tell myself? Oh right. Life is about compromise. For the sake of my other roommate’s peace, I’ll leave. I just hope they do the same for me. One can dream right? Today was just another example of why I should strive to work hard so that I can afford my own apartment and live on my own.
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Daniel Giraffe 