Margie Creen

Devon moved out because I’m a bad roommate.

Apparently, she didn’t like it that I never took out the trash. Or washed the dishes. Or put away my things. Or that my cat pissed on her couch. More than once.

These things are understandable, certainly.

It’s not that I’m lazy, it’s just that I have better things to do with my time than clean.

Cleaning is for anal people, and I’ve never been a fan of that position.

My mother hates cleaning too. Her mother hated cleaning. I’m sure her mother hated it too, but she’s dead and I never met her and she was from Germany so let’s just drop it.

A woman I know told me that if she were to die tomorrow, she didn’t want to spend today cleaning. That reasoning stuck.

In the dorms, I had a pumpkin on the floor. Turns out, that pumpkin was rotten. When my roommate went to move it, the whole bottom fell out. A friend of mine still comments on my room reeking until the end of the year. The pumpkin incident happened in late September.

My first apartment in Brookings was quaint. As I unloaded dishes and pans, I told myself that I would keep the place spotless, immaculate, and free of clutter. That lasted about an hour.

Eventually, my friends stopped coming over. They didn’t like to sit on stale Cheetos and soiled clothes.

I would straighten up the living room or kitchen just enough for them to come back, but as soon as they left, it would somehow turn back to the way it was meant to be.

I think what finally made me realize that I am indeed not a clean person was an incident last Friday.

A few of the neighbor boys were hanging out in my basement apartment with Devon and I, when I left for a moment. When I returned, two guys were frantically washing dishes and sweeping the floor. Two guys who were half-drunk.

Those two were so bothered by the clutter and nastiness that exists in my apartment that they insisted on cleaning before they could enjoy their drinks.

After that night, I told myself a second time that I would keep the place clean. Today is Thursday and the dishes are piling up. The trash is full and I caught my cat preparing to piss on my new roommate’s couch.

Some say that cleanliness is next to Godliness. I don’t know what that means, but I do know that cleaning sucks and you’ll never catch this reporter anywhere near a mop.

To my dear friends who frequent my pad: I apologize for the mess and disorder. Please remember I’d rather go to a movie than waste time making it look nice for you.

To my former roommate, Devon: Sorry I’m a pig and I messed up the apartment. I hope you like your new couch.

Magie Creen is a junior journalism major and English minor.

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