Prisoner

It hasn’t even been a week yet and I just don’t know…

I’ve barely spoken to my housemate. I’m the sort of person who can’t really talk to people unless I’ve been friends with them for a while or they give me conversation openings. My housemate doesn’t give openings. Normally I can slowly overcome it all with a little effort but I just can’t. She’s so damn quiet and I can’t hear what she’s saying. So we’ve rarely spoken.
I feel like I’m confined to my room. She’s downstairs, constantly watching TV in the evenings and I’m hiding up here. I don’t feel comfortable doing anything downstairs when she’s around.

This might sound petty but I don’t like the little things that she does. She uses a tableside lamp to read. The light it gives off is shit so it irks me that she doesn’t just get up and use the proper light. She opened the front blinds so that people out there can look in and I don’t like that. For some reason she finds it too hard to carry a green bag with her so she always comes home with wasteful plastic bags. She uses the 40 degree setting on the washing machine. WTF? Heating up water just to wash clothes is wasteful. Normal tap water temperatures are more than adequate. And she likes to move the stupid cat climbing thing in front of the side door so I have to move it if I want to go out. Not to mention the fact that the climbing thing is close to the table so the stupid cats jump onto said table.

I’ve been getting up practically every minute to get those damn cats off the table or the bookshelf. Worst of all, the kitchen bench. One of those stupid cats was up there right at my dinner. Am I doomed to spend the whole year going through this?
Hell no. If the cats aren’t going to learn where they can’t go then they are out of here. And if my housemate doesn’t like it then she can give her four weeks notice and leave as well. I do not want to have to deal with this crap in my own home. I have a right to be happy.

I don’t think I’m cut out with living with cats. I don’t hate cats (though I think I hate living with cats) but I am definitely a dog person. If you don’t want them on the bench or at your food then it is easy to teach them. They know their place. And if they get too much then you can boot them outside for a few hours.

God, I hate feeling like this. And in my own home too. Home is meant to be where I can go to get away from all this crappy feelings. Now, there’s nowhere to go.

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