Dear Roommate: Or, Don’t Touch My Stuff. Seriously. Don’t.

To The Roommate Who Has Been Home All Night But Decided to Shower Right as I Was Getting Back From a 12+ Hour Workday So I’m Now Forced to Wait While You Finish Blow Drying Your Hair and Who Also Moved All My Stuff in the Fridge To Make Room for Your Pizza Box Even Though You’re Already Taking Up Two Other Shelves and the Entire Produce Drawer and Almost the Entire Freezer and I Only Have One Measly, Tiny Corner:

 

I’m sorry, there seems to have been a miscommunication. You seem to be under the impression that your life and schedule are just as important as mine—nay, based on your actions, more important than mine. I hate to break this to you, but that simply isn’t the case. I’m not meaning to brag, but I’m a pretty big deal. I have up to twenty contacts in my phone address book. I won the spelling bee for three years in a row in grade school. I can type an average 99 words a minute. I’m impressive.

So I don’t know where you got this idea that you can just push me aside. Or worse, that you can push my food aside. My food! Admittedly, it is not all that impressive an assortment at the moment—some butter spread, half an onion, ¼ of a jar of pesto, and half a block of cheese—but still. That’s my food. That’s sacred. And to add insult to injury, you didn’t even offer me a slice from said pizza box that took over my space. Were you raised by wolves? Wolves?!!!

(I’m less concerned about the showering thing, to be honest. Frankly, there was only a 50/50 chance that I was actually going to take one anyway.)

Luckily for you, I am a deeply passive aggressive person. Rather than confronting you head on, I have moved the offending pizza box (to one of your multiple shelves that had PLENTY of room leftover, by the way) and put my own meager possessions firmly back in place, all without saying a word.  I may or may not have repeatedly turned on the kitchen sink knowing that it would significantly lower the water pressure during your uuber-long shower (I had to wash my dishes, okay? It was legitimate! Legitimate, I say!). And when next our paths should cross, I will smile and ask how you are—but oh, the narrowing of eyes when your back is turned. Oh, how they will narrow.

What you probably don’t understand is that when you aren’t around me, I go on to lead a life that is entirely separate to yours, but nonetheless fully rounded and real. It may be a sad, sheltered life full of Kraft macaroni and cheese and watching British television in bed, but it’s a life nonetheless. I know in the movie of your life, I’m probably played by Rebel Wilson, but in the movie of mine, I’m played by Tina Fey. My life has meaning and value! And so does my food!

So, in the wise words of Dog the Bounty Hunter– show some respect, brah. Use bathroom time sparingly if you know someone else is waiting. Don’t assume that my crap is worth less than yours just because it’s crap. And for goodness sake, offer me a slice of pizza!

Sincerely,

Your Roommate

**Addendum 1: The writer would like to make clear that her roommates are all lovely people. That being said, any resemblance to real persons is intentional and accurate, if maybe a little skewed. Kind of like when your friend gets a cartoon caricature made and asks if her forehead is really that big, and you say, “Of course not!” in that really nervous, high-pitched voice, but inside you’re thinking, Yes. Yes, it is.

**Addendum 2: The author would also like to make clear that she did, in fact, shower after the writing of this post. If never again.