reading some of these makes me think I’m pretty lucky. The tv always says she’s hard work to live with but we split the household chores pretty evenly and everything seems to work out well. she never replaces bin bags though, so many times I’ve thrown egg shells or tea bags into the food bin and looked to see that there’s been no bag there.
it does not make me miss house sharing at all, the flat that we were in before we moved into our own place was hell on Earth, shared with four other people. I remember watching my flat mate, whose parents happened to own the flat, attempting to pour olive oil into a pot whilst talking to me and completely missing it and pouring it all the stove/worktop. i went into the the kitchen later on in the evening and it was still there and has dripped down to form a puddle on the floor which his kitten had stepped in and trailed around the flat.
his girlfriend was Italian and went through a phase of teaching him how to make pizzas from scratch but they were always so stoned/medicated when they did it that they never cleaned up afterwards, semolina flour everywhere. I fucking hated that flat, it was such about shame as it was a beautiful old tenement flat but was always absolutely disgusting.
