Random Roommates – The Messy Roommate #1

This year in collage, I am living in an apartment with three random people. Last year I lived with a family member, but it was time to move on and experience what life is when your allowed to cook your own food.

I was very excited to move into a new place, my own space that I could (within reason) do whatever I wanted.

I could just leave when I wanted, do what I want, COOK what I wanted. Uber excited.

It might be worth mentioning here that in my home, my grandmother cooks. Awww you might say, thats nice. How lovely she must cook lovely wholesome food, and how nice you have some one to cook for you.


Yes she cooks food that is freshly made, and yes occasionally it is nice to have dinner waiting for you. But she rules the kitchen with an iron, totalitarian, passive aggressive fist.

No one, and I mean NO ONE is allowed to cook. At all. My Grandmother cooks mashed potatoes, boiled veg and meat of some sort every, single, day. She refuses to cook anything other than that as it’s “foreign”. Fine you might say, why don’t you just cook your own food? Well, thats a bit difficult, because if you do try to cook food for the family she refuses to eat it. Even if it’s what she would normally cook herself. She won’t eat it and the cold war continues so you are forced to let her cook again or else she will starve.

When I left home I lived with my Aunt, and she is a total and utter health freak. No sauces, no processed foods, all healthy, all plain food. I might as well have been living at home.

So I was excited to get a chance to cook for myself. Which would be fine if the kitchen wasn’t a bio hazard.

The two girls and the guy I live with are fine roommates. Almost.

One girl I have no problem with. She is nice, friendly but not in my space. We keep to ourselves but would have a chat if we were in the kitchen, occasionally watch a bit of Tv together.

The guy, well, he is The Mess. The chap is lovely, he really is. But what the hell goes through his mind is just past my mental capability to reason out. He is by far, the most dirty, messy, unhygienic person I have ever met when it comes to the kitchen and food.

And he works as a cook in the college bar. It literally blows my mind how someone like him can be allowed to handle food. He is a grand cook, he can cook basic meals. But he is actually a hazard to our health.

Numerous times there has been extremely gone off meat in our fridge and was just left there until I had to throw it out. Our fridge has only one shelf that we have to share, and I have found raw meat on top of my food, all but contaminating all the food I own. A whole cooked chicken was left on the counter for a week, untouched or covered. He washed his shoes in our sink and didn’t rinse it after, leaving the laces hanging on the faucet to dry.

Every utensil we own get used because he never cleans up after, and when they are all dirty he will wash but not dry them, and leave them on the draining board for a week, steadily using them again.

It’s scary but no matter how many times it is said to him, it never gets cleaner.

The stories I could tell about him and my other roommate, The Mystery, could keep me going for a while, so for now I’ll call this the Introduction.


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