Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve been living here for more than a month and they still haven’t given me a roommate. With the exception of the party in September, when some people went in there to smoke weed, the room next to mine has sat empty all the time I’ve been here. I’ve more or less forgotten it exists.
I don’t know why they haven’t found anyone for my place. There is construction going on up the hill from me, so maybe the noise is keeping lighter sleepers away. But other people in the same complex have the same situation, so maybe the demand for housing has dried up suddenly. Whatever the cause, I’ve long since taken it for granted. If I ever do get a roommate, he’ll have to bring his own kitchen, because mine is full.
The storage space is nice, but there are a few cons to being alone here. Being alone here is one. I realize that several of my friends are living in other people’s houses and would really like more solitude, so I won’t try to play for too much sympathy, but it does start to get kind of eerie occasionally. Somehow, it’s easier for me to be productive in an occupied home; left to my own devices, I just wander around the apartment indolently.
And God, is the place a mess. My room has always been a mess, all my life, but I’ve never had a whole place all to myself, to despoil and defile how I will. If I leave mail on the dining room table, or dishes on the coffee table, or Trader Joe’s bags on the kitchen floor (what’s wrong with me?), who’s going to complain to me about it? It’s kept me from working out any kind of organization, because there’s no end of space to dump stuff. The whole effect is pretty pathetic–I was pretty familiar with my own weakness without having it spread all over a two-bedroom apartment.
On the other hand, nothing says that my act will be cleaned up by another guy living here. That’s like owning only seven pairs of socks so that you have to do laundry once a week: it’s a pipe dream. My bad habits aren’t going away anytime soon. But hopefully a disapproving roommate can help me keep them in check, or at least restricted to my closet and under my bed.