I honestly don’t know if you can tell from my blog, but I am not the biggest fan of being around people. As you can see from these (actually quite accurate) results from a Facebook personality test, I’m not the friendliest person you will ever meet in real life. I’m not warm, I’m not gregarious, and I’m only friendly when I make a conscious effort.
That said, it makes sense that having roommates is not my favorite thing. I will admit that I have been blessed in the roommate department — I’ve had a total of 5 throughout the years, and none of them have been crazy partiers, or always had tons of people over, or were so absolutely loud that it woke me up at night. I know roommates can be SO MUCH worse than that, and I’m really thankful to actually be friends with 2 of mine. However, I’m the type of person that even if I have the greatest roommates ever, I still cannot wait until I make enough money to have an apartment that’s all my own. I just really like having an entire apartment to myself.
Because of that, moving into an apartment was an adjustment. When my freshman roommate and I moved into an on-campus apartment our sophomore year, I was excited. It was the first time I had my own room, and it was great to have a kitchen. But unlike my roommate, I wasn’t that excited about decorating or anything like that. For one, decorating is expensive. But mostly, I knew the apartment would be temporary, and I didn’t see the point in investing in it. I put up a few photos in my bedroom, and that was all the decorating I did.
That first apartment was also the first time I had to take care of spaces other than my room. At home, I shared a room with my sister growing up. Our parents made us clean it every now and then, and we were required to clean our shared hall bathroom every week. But those were always chores I hated, and didn’t want to do. Moving into an apartment changed that. Suddenly, the rooms were mine, and it reflected on me when they weren’t nice and clean. It was me and my roommate who had to deal with messes, so we were more careful not to make them in the first place.
I moved out of the on-campus apartment halfway through junior year, because I finally realized how much more expensive it was compared to off-campus ones. I moved in with two girls, one of whom I knew fairly well. Moving in there was a bit of a different dynamic. While my previous roommate and I had decided together to move out of the dorms, and had planned together which furniture each of us would get, when I moved again it was into an already-established apartment. Of course, I did feel welcome, but I mostly stuck to my room because it was the only space that was all mine. My roommates were much more gregarious than I (not hard to be, given the graph above), and had friends over to hang in the living room frequently. That was fine, of course; it was their apartment as well, and their friends were nice. But being the way I am, I didn’t hang out in the living room because there might be people I didn’t know coming in at any time.
Another thing about me: I am a bit of neat freak. Since I’ve had a room of my own, I love it most when everything is clean and organized. I work and relax best with a clean desk and clean floors, and love to see my laundry basket empty. I also hate a messy kitchen. I’m not above leaving dishes in the sink, but I am above not wiping down the counter after preparing food on it. Also, cleaning is one of the things that makes me happy — honestly. Dusting is the only cleaning chore I don’t like, and that’s because I don’t like having to move all the stuff that sits on surfaces. But when I vacuum, or mop, or wipe counters, it makes me feel like I’m being productive and like I can accomplish anything. (Also, cleaning is seriously a great workout.)
I used to get annoyed when my roommates didn’t clean. It felt like they didn’t care about their spaces, and almost like they didn’t care how I felt when I came into the apartment to see a huge mess in the kitchen or hair all over the bathroom sink. But I’ve gotten over that. For one, I’ve realized that not everyone notices grossness. Take my boyfriend, for example — it’s not that he doesn’t care than his bathroom is kind of yucky, it’s that he legitimately does not notice until I point it out. (I’ve accepted that when we move in together, I’ll be the one cleaning.) And for two, I’ve realized that cleaning makes me feel more at home. I definitely feel simultaneously relaxed and energized in a clean apartment. But more than that, cleaning an apartment allows me to claim it as my own. I take responsibility for it, and in doing so claim it as my space that I’m proud to be in — and have others in.
I admit I am counting down the days to graduation, not only because I’m excited, but also because I’m ready to move into my own apartment. But for now, I’m content to live where I do, and I’m thankful that I’ve figured out a way to make places my own wherever I am.