The short version.
I took a job that required a 300 mile move in like 3 weeks. As a result, I agreed to be roommates with a coworker who was in the exact same situation as me. In theory it was – and still kinda is – a good idea. We split the rent and utilities. I most definitely couldn’t afford this apartment on my own.
But… there’s always a but.
I’ve never lived with anyone before. Once I left my parent’s house, I lived by myself. Just me, myself, and I. My brother did a short stint in the living room, but that’s waaaay different.
Yo. Having a roommate is… *sigh*
No more walking around the house half naked (or completely) just because I can. You have to be mindful of making too much noise super early or super late. I’m just not used to it.
Welp… my roommate has invited 4 of her friends to come visit this weekend. FOUR. Cuatro. Mind you, this apartment is not huge. I have no idea where all of these people are gonna sleep or sit. Quite frankly, I don’t really care – except they’re gonna be in the way and that impacts me. And this is where it gets sticky. Four grown ass people just chillin in this two bedroom apartment. Four people in the smallest of kitchens. Actually, I highly doubt that. My roommate doesn’t cook – I’d be surprised if her friends did. No shade, just real talk. One bathroom for four adults to use. I have my own bathroom – and don’t even begin to imagine that I’m sharing my bathroom with people I don’t know. Nah, son. They’re sleeping in the living room – where I watch TV. I’ll sacrifice on Friday and Saturday. But Sunday, yall gotta be up and outta the way by 1pm. I have football to watch.
And all of that assumes that I don’t have anyone over.
Yall pray for me.
Folks might not make it. And I pay rent here… they don’t!