Thursday, October 7, 2010

I'm moving, again, and not to DC.

When I moved in with Adam in June, I had been in a hurry to find some reasonable human being to live with in a very short period of time. I basically had three weeks to find somewhere to live.

Adam is straight-edge, and vegan. Which isn't a problem. We don't share food, with the exception of his candy. His diet is made up primarily of fried potato products and candy - he doesn't like the banana flavored laffytaffy, so he puts it in a bowl for me. I think this is gross. But that's just fine because he thinks that all the dairy products I consume are gross.

He is also not in any way type-A. I am. And this is where I have driven every roommate I've had insane. I like the areas that we share to be clean, but not your version of clean, my version of clean. And then I start to resent the person I live with for not having the same standards that I have and I start doing passive aggressive things, like not taking the trash out when it starts to smell, or not doing dishes - just to see how long it takes them to notice.

When I moved in I liked that Adam was a DJ, had a great music collection, small label and is just generally a music person. I didn't realize that he had so much stuff. And I really don't like stuff. I am a minimalist. I like my books and records, but I like them stored in a non-obtrusive way. I like linear things and I like stacks and defined angles. And I really don't like dog hair.

Adam has two dogs, two pugs. And I grew up with dogs, I love dogs and generally prefer them to cats. But I don't think I've ever been around two dogs that shed as much as these two do, or maybe it's just because there are two of them. And nevermind the older dog's bowel issues - I bought a plastic rug for the living room specifically because of this problem.

So, Adam and I had it out the other night. I've wanted to move out for awhile, but wasn't really sure how to go about asking out of my lease. And I didn't mean for it to happen the way that it did, but basically he told me I was mean and I told him he was dirty, and then we talked about our fucked up families. It actually felt a lot like a lot of the conversations I've had with my family members growing up - things almost always started with an argument, then turned to tears, then eventually a rational discussion was born. Age-wise he would fit perfectly into my family, snugly between Steven and April.

So, now I'm on the hunt for another home. One where I live by myself. As much as all of my roommates have annoyed me, I can honestly say that I love them. But as a favor to the rest of the world, I really need to live alone. Well, as a favor, and for my sanity. The only issue with this is that it will be slightly more expensive. I have resigned myself to the fact that I will A) be living in the ghetto or B) be living in not the greatest conditions. I prefer the former.

I looked at a tiny one-bedroom earlier this week and it was kind of perfect except for the location. The leasing agent even warned me of the proximity to one of Richmond's most dangerous developments. This doesn't bother me as much as it will bother my parents. The place is in a quadraplex and the other tenants are mostly nursing students that attend classes on the nearby MCV campus.

I'm looking at a studio today that's in the noisy Shockoe area. I'd be living above a bar, which again doesn't really bother me because it means that I could be as loud as I wanted to. And I have an appointment to look at another one bedroom later today that's in my current neighborhood - it's more expensive, but all inclusive.

I am using one of my old roommates as a reference so that she can attest to my cleanliness and orderliness. I'm not a bad tenant, I'm just a bitch to live with.

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