So once again me and my living companions have been called to reception to discuss the vile hole of filth that we call 706.
Just as a brief summary for those who have not read about my flat before:
– I am one of four living companions
Ze, the other girl, is lovely and I like her greatly, we have mutual respect for cleaning our girl bathroom and she always gives me pieces of cake if she has it.
Amir, the one who gives me the most rage, and I do not talk because of a saucepan row back in October.
John, the most silent person I have ever met, does not understand cleaning.
– We do not talk we communicate via Post-It notes
– Our flat fails the two week inspection every time. We have never passed an inspection first time.
So yes, as I was ranting, we were called to reception to discuss why at the age of 18+ none of us can cope with cleaning adequately.
John did not turn up to this meeting. My blood was already boiling with this boy as there is a pair of pants [yes actual pants not boxer shorts, a full blown Y-front monstrosity.] that have been there since I first spotted them when I surfaced from slumber at 8pm Saturday evening. They are still there. Outside his door.
I’m not sure if he has ever seen girls underwear [that isn’t nasty, all he does is stay in his room] but I think he actually believes they might be mine. So there they have stayed for nearly 4 days.
So Ze, Amir and myself were sat at reception waiting for him for 5 minutes or so before I marched upstairs to bang down his door. He either didn’t answer or he genuinely wasn’t there, so I went back downstairs and the meeting begun…
We were sat in front of Liz, the woman who runs the building, like children at school. I already wanted to kick Amir for just being there. I refrained. Just.
Liz: “Do you know why you are all here?”
Me: “Because no one in the flat can cope with the basic task of cleaning”
Liz: “Well, because you failed the flat inspection four times last week”
Me: “Yeah, we’ve not passed since September”
Liz: “Right, and why is that?”
Me: “Because no one in the flat can cope with the basic task of cleaning or is just waiting for someone else, mainly me and Ze, to clean it”
Me: “Which I don’t think is fair. I don’t think people are grasping the concept that cleaning the flat ONCE every two weeks isn’t good enough.”
The conversation followed a similar pattern [i.e. me venting and Liz trying to turn it into a question directed at the other living companions] and Ze chipped in about the horrific state of the vile place of germs [the boy bathroom].
Amir sat in silence. UNTIL. That bitch. It took a lot of self control to not launch the chair I was sat on AT him.
Liz: “So whose job is it to mop the kitchen floor?”
Amir: “I think it is mine.”
Woah Woah WOAH. You think? YOU KNOW IT IS YOUR JOB! You signed up for it. Fucker. THEN…
Amir: “But I can’t do it because it hasn’t been vacuumed properly. I can’t mop with bits on the floor.” and then turned round and looked at me.
You could have knocked me down with a feather. I’m laughing as I write this because it is actually quite amusing but about 15 minutes ago I could feel rage bubbling through me.
You know in cartoons when the temperature increases so quickly that thermometer explodes. That is how the rage went through me.
Me: “Pardon? I hoover at least once a week and the last time I hoovered, I came up to you in the kitchen after and said very nicely ‘I don’t know if you’ve seen but we’ve failed the flat inspection again and even though you may have done it [he had not.] do you mind mopping again so we can pass’ and you just grunted at me and didn’t do it. I then got down on my hands and knees and wiped the marks to pass the flat inspection. If you mopped as soon as I hoovered then there would be no food on the floor”
Amir: “But there is still food in the corners, I can’t mop”
Me: “No there is not, I can hoover properly because I actually know how to clean” *death stare*
My death stare could freeze fire.
Liz is silent. I am inwardly raging. Amir is just expressionless which is making me even more ficking angry.
After two minutes of rage and awkward silence Liz said “Well you can actually use a dustpan and brush if there is just a few crumbs”
Amir: Nothing. Not a single word.
I am going to box that boy in the face one day. Probably the day I leave. Swift drop kick to the throat.
Another sore point in the flat is the oven. It comes with two metal racks that are shelves and then a black tray. I don’t think Amir understands that they are shelves and not baking trays.
I’m not judging as all I can cook is pasta, but all he eats is rice and chicken in breadcrumbs. He is the only person in the flat to use the oven so I know for a fact that any dirt in that oven is his, but does he clean it? Why would he when he could just leave it for muggins to do it.
So for two weeks or so I have been hiding the shelves and tray so he can’t use it. I brought this up in the meeting.
Me: “The oven is also grim. I don’t use it and I have cleaned it once and so has Ze. So the dirt in there is not mine” *death stare at Amir*
Liz: “So Amir, do you use the oven”
Liz: “And how often do you wash the trays you use?”
Amir: “Once every 3 or so times” 3 or so? 3 or NEVER? What a ficking lie.
Liz: “Well you should really clean them every time. At the very least wipe them”
Amir: “Well I suppose I will clean them as I use them the most” the most? THE MOST? You are the only ficking one who uses them.
So after the meeting was abandoned as nothing could be resolved with out G.P.J John [gold puffer jacket] we all piled in to the lift. We were on level two. It was a long, silent trip to level 7 ending in every one going back in to their room, Amir slamming his door and me coming on here to vent.
We have another meeting at 4pm tomorrow…