It's Not Me, It's You.

So, I'm not one to complain, wait, yes I am. In fact this entire blog is mostly me complaining about stuff. It really kind of is, that's sad. Well, I have to tell someone without actually telling someone because I am super irritated right now. At the end of the school year my dearest roommates went home, without me, and left me here. I am still traumatized over it. Every once in awhile it starts pouring like the scene from The Notebook when Ryan Gosling and what's her name make up and realize they still love each other and that he sent her letters every day, except no one is sending me letters every day and I don't really love anyone at least not in that way and it's not actually raining...so mostly it's not like that scene and I can't remember where I was going with that, whatever. It's really really sad. Onto the complaining portion of this entry. I loved them with every fiber of my being and they left me, they left me and their cleanly ways left me. I am kind of messy, it's true, BUT my mess extends to my bedroom, and it's mostly because I'm lazy and never put my laundry away. But one certain new roommate of mine (all of my roommates names start with K so we will just call her Bo Peep) has a mess that extends far beyond the realm of her own galaxy and waaaay up into all a everybody else's galaxy. I walked downstairs this morning and I could swear that last night she had a bar fight in our living room that escalated into the kitchen and involved a lot of butter. It was a mess. I feel like a mother cleaning up after an overgrown two year old. I'm sure Bo Peep is a wonderful person, she seems really fun, but you can be wonderful and fun AND clean. I'm not sure how she manages to dirty so many dishes in one day, she is one person, but our sink is never empty for more than what seems like five minutes. And it's never two or three dishes it's like she served up a seven course meal to the confederate army! It's crazy! Oh, if only H & A from freshman year had her as a roommate they would have LOVED us. She really is a fun loving, awesome, energetic person and I'm sure, given the chance, we would be great friends. It's just very exhausting to be the only person in the apartment who seems bothered by this problem. Am I wrong to not want to gag when I walk into my kitchen?