So if you recall, I had a new roommate move in about three months ago. He really is a GREAT guy. Super friendly. Keeps to himself. Wears purple thongs. You know...normal stuff.
Earlier today, the unthinkable happened. Granted, I am not the world's cleanest person, and, in fact, I might be considered "filthy" or "dirty" or "unkempt" by some. Fuck you guys, anyway.
But I digress.
As I was saying, I walked out of my room...and the roommate was standing in front of the DISHWASHER of all things...and plates, which had previously been stacking up in the sink, were now INSIDE said dishwasher. This was incredible to me because the guy literally has not cleaned ANYTHING in THREE months. Nothing. Not one thing. NADA. ZIP. I was in shock. Cool...my ploy worked. He actually will clean stuff if I stop cleaning up after him!
I walk past the kitchen on my way out the front door, but am stopped by a plea for help. Seriously, I AM NOT making ANY of this up.
Roommate: Hey, how do you turn this thing on?
Honestly, I don't think he knows that it is called a "dishwasher." Truly. I don't. And even though it was the start of the conversation...I had to pause. My dishwasher has six, count them, SIX buttons on it. All of the buttons have odd hieroglyphics that I like to call "words" on top of them. One of the buttons has the weird marking "Start" right above it.
Me in my brain: Gee, I don't know. MAYBE YOU HIT THE START BUTTON?
Me out loud: Well...you just hit that button (pointing to "start") right there.
Roommate: Oh...I see. So, do you have any soap?
Keep in mind, when I walked into the room, I had found the roommate standing befuddled, looking with a great deal of consternation at the front of a CLOSED-dishwasher door. I had of course hidden the dishwasher soap as well as I could...a mere five inches away in the cabinet under the sink. I guess I could keep my porn in any cleaning product area.
Me in my brain: Wow. He was going to "do the dishes" without any soap. That's pretty ingenious.
Me out loud: Yeah. The soap is right here (opening up the cabinet door).
To his credit, there were TWO containers of detergent under the sink...and he happened to pick the one that had never been opened. So I really shouldn't blame him when he, without opening the cap, turned the liquid soap upside down and nothing came out and said:
Roommate: How do you make this work?
Me in my brain: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
Me out loud: Um...you need to open the cap.
Still nothing comes out.
Roommate: This isn't working. (Obviously getting frustrated)
Me in my brain: Am I really havin this conversation?
Me out loud: ______, I think that one hasn't been opened yet. Maybe you could use the other bottle (I politely point to the other bottle of detergent) .
I figure at this point, my need to "supervise" this obviously complicated endeavor had ended. I was wrong.
As I'm sure most of you know, a dishwasher has two areas to add soap...the pre-wash and post-wash area. The post-wash area has a little door to release more soap at just the right time in the mystical world of the dishwashing cycle.
The roommate only puts soap in the post-wash area AND doesn't close the little door.
Me in my brain: Wow.
Me out loud: Maybe you could add a little soap there (pointing to the pre-wash area) .
Me in my brain: Holy shit.
Me out loud: Hmmm...right there (I re-point to the same area).
Roommate: Oh...got it. (He starts to close the door).
Me in my brain: Man...I am so writing about this later.
Me out loud: ________, you need to close that little mini-door. That keeps some keeps some soap for later in the cycle.
Roommate: Wow. Really?
Me in my brain: Darron is going to love this.
Me out loud: Yup. Pretty crazy, huh?
He then closed the door, and again pondered over the buttons. I wait for about fifteen seconds.
Me in my brain: JUST HIT START!
Me out loud: Yeah...just hit that one (point to start AGAIN) right there.
And BAM...the dishes were washed. Never mind the fact that the rest of the kitchen is covered with grease from the numerous food he fries with an uncovered frying pan. Nope...he didn't wipe down any of the counters. Stove, untouched. Walls, CAKED with grease. After cleaning these things up for him EVERY WEEK...he still doesn't get it. So, now I just leave it.
Also, this pan he uses, he keeps putting directly on my counter top when he is done...and he has completely burned the counter. I have tried wiping the counter off, but the staining/burning has SET in. To try to rectify this problem, every time I have cleaned the kitchen since he has lived here, I put a towel under his pan so that he stains the towel and not the counter. He keeps throwing the towel away within days of me doing it.
You may be wondering why I havent communicated any of these issues to him? I don't know. At this point, I am actually pretty fascinated by the entire thing...and I want to see where this ends.
Strangely, since I have stopped cleaning up after to him...I came home to:
"You know...if you want to go in on a house cleaner together...we could totally split the cost."
NO...I would rather live in filth. I'll show you!