Aaaaaaaaagh. I need my own apartment. Desperately. I have never in my life lived alone, and I really think it's about time to start. Too bad I pay $500/month for half of the smallest two-bedroom apartment in a shitty neighborhood ever. (Implication being that rent is fucking high in Anchorage and I'll never be able to afford my own place.)

Two days ago, I scrubbed the kitchen from top to bottom. I wiped the coffee stains from the sink and counters (I don't drink coffee). I scrubbed the egg crust from the stove. (I don't eat eggs.) I took care of the stinky, crusty dishes rotting in the sink. (I put my dishes in the dishwasher.) Yes, there were some mutual messes, like the food spatter in the microwave and the crumbs on the floor, but mostly the mess was...not...mine. (There was even egg yolk smeared across the garbage can. And I scrubbed it. Eeeew.)

Well. My pristine kitchen lasted for less than a day, until my roommate came home from her boyfriend's, exploded something in the microwave, left a coffee cup (and its horrible coffee ring) on the counter, and stacked some nasty eggy frying pans and plates in the sink. At least the stove was still nice. Until today, day two. There is something blackish smeared across it; it looks like dirt. What food/kitchen substance looks like dirt? It's too black to be coffee grounds.

Yesterday, I took care of the coffee, microwave, and dishes. Today, I wiped up the dirt-like stuff. I am hoping this passive aggressive approach will make her wonder why the kitchen always looks so clean...but most likely, it'll just encourage her to be a slob because, hey, someone else will clean it up. The "let the filth accumulate" tactic clearly won't work because that's exactly what she did while I was home for break, and she didn't seem to mind. (Also, it would drive me crazy.)

Gah. I should be doing homework (or cleaning the kitchen) rather than bitching.