Are these my plants?
My roommate signed up for a succulents of the month club and never even took any of the plants out of the box. She didn’t repot them. She didn’t propagate any of them. She doesn’t spray down their leaves or rotate them so they can get the right amount of light. She doesn’t water them every 9 days or even look at them. She doesn’t think about them at all.
So, are these my plants?
I’m packing my shit and I can’t get over the fact that here I am moving AGAIN and dividing things up. It’s different this time though. This time there’s actual animosity. I’m not wishing anyone well and instead of thinking “no hard feelings” there are absolutely hard feelings. I have never lived with someone so irresponsible. I have never hated getting a text from someone as much as I’ve hated getting a text from her over the last 8 months. She’s white, so obviously she considers herself to be the center of the universe, but she actually admits shit like that out loud. She was at least 30 minutes late to work every day for MONTHS and when her boss put her on an attendance plan, she texted me talking about how “unrealistic” it was.
“Explain” I said. “How is it unrealistic?” “Because I’m an irresponsible person and it’s just not possible for me to be on time that many days in a row!!”, she replied. And she was serious. I have joked about five minutes late not being late, and how jobs are a scam and time isn’t real. But girl…
That’s not even the worst part about it. She’s filthy. Like physically and just mentally. She’s not a good person. I know being a good person is subjective and there’s different ways to measure it. Based on any scale of measurement, she’s not a good person. It’s a fact. I know some people are wondering how I even met her or how we came to be friends. We used to work together at one of my fucking shitty ass mall jobs. I’ve known her for 5 years. She’s not somebody I ever talked to every single day, but I talked to her enough that when I needed someone to move in with I didn’t flinch at moving in with her. I should have flinched. I have never cleaned up after somebody as much as I have cleaned up after this woman. This adult, 30 year old woman. I hate having a messy house and a lot of the time I will just clean something up myself, because in the time it takes to ask somebody to clean something up, wait for them to do it, and then do it again after them because they didn’t do it right the first time--I could have just fucking done it myself.
It’s weird because she constantly brags about having raised herself or about being the “mom friend” (kill me), but I see literally no evidence of this at all. Something I learned about her is that she lies a lot. Or like...grossly exaggerates the truth and stretches it to a degree where the initial truth is barely visible anymore. It’s not even in like..a funny way.
She also just likes Having Things. Yes she’s a Taurus. But she has no discerning factors for spending her money, she just spends it. I’m the opposite. I don’t have many things and I don’t want to. I don’t like spending money and when I do have to spend it on something other than bills or food, I think long and hard about whether or not it’s the right choice and do a million price comparisons to make sure I’m being responsible about it. She buys everything through Amazon. She gets toilet paper shipped to the house. Walgreens is walking distance. Imagine running out of toilet paper and waiting for Amazon to tell you when you can wipe your ass again. Unbelievable. It’s not just that though. It’s everything. Just like an overall laziness and lack of concern for other living things. Why sign up for a succulent subscription if you don’t give a fuck about these plants?
Are these my plants?!
And, of course, the cat. Lets talk about the cat. If you’re signed up for this newsletter I assume you know all the other minor details about Cutie, but lets talk about the major ones. I never really said anything about the major details. I was saving up to get a lizard. My roommate asked me multiple times if I wanted to get a cat. I said no. The one day she came home with this fucking sob story about how her friend had 2 cats that needed to be rehomed until May. I said I would do it. It’s her friend, he needed help, and it was temporary. Her friend said he would pay for everything the cats needed. Why would I say no?
A week or so later, I asked her about her friend and the cats. “Oh, I don’t know”, she said. “I think he’s just staying where he’s living now and he’s gonna take care of his cats”. “Okay”, I said. So that’s it, right? Wrong. A few days later, she starts randomly texting me about fostering a friend of a friend’s cat that she saw on facebook. Fostering. I said, directly, that I was not ready for a cat because I couldn’t afford one. Period. She said that “cats aren’t super expensive and it’s like not a big deal”. I never responded to her, which in her mind meant she could get the cat. A few days after that conversation, I asked again about her friend’s cats. “Oh”, she said. “He is moving but I told him we can’t take his cats because you don’t want three cats in the house”. What?! How did I get thrown under the bus? Where did I get wrenched into this story?? And, you’re telling me, that you told your friend, who was in a desperate situation, “no” because you randomly decided to get a cat off facebook? OK.
The morning the cat was being brought over, I had a bunch of questions. What kind of food does he eat? When does he eat? Has he had all of his shots? Does he like people?
“I don’t know”, my roommate said.
“Why do you want a cat?” I asked
“I don’t know, I just want a cat to cuddle and watch movies with”. And then she left for brunch.
When the cat was brought by that evening, she didn’t even tell me. I was in my room with headphones on listening to music. I came out of my room to go pee and heard meowing. “Where?” I asked. There were a bunch of strangers in my house. I didn’t speak to them. I wanted them out. “Where is the cat?” I asked. “He’s behind the refrigerator” somebody said. I didn’t know who said it and I didn’t care. I got down on my hands and knees and crawled behind the refrigerator and held my hand out. He came right out to me, laid down on the floor and let me pet him. “Oh wow!” somebody said. “I’ve never seen him do that to someone new”. I started talking to the cat. “Wow, you’re a cutie! I already love you. You’re so sweet”. I got up and walked out of the kitchen and into my room. He followed me.
He didn’t leave my room for almost two weeks. My roommate barely got to look at him. He wouldn’t let her pet him and he hid under the bed whenever she walked around the house.
Is this my cat?
It’s been months now. She hasn’t played with him, fed him, cleaned up his hairball puke, she doesn’t know anything about him. He doesn’t even like her.
It’s my cat.
He’s my cat, they’re my plants. I’m taking them. You can’t expect something to grow without watering it. You can’t get a fucking cat just to watch movies with. And you can’t keep fucking me over and think I’m not going to make a scene.
For personal reasons I will not be documenting any scenes that I make. Thanks for understanding and have a great day.