I’ve had too many female roommates to have any illusions about how neat girls are.
I had one roommate who was a serial stacker. She’d come into a room, bemoan the untidy state therein and proceed to run around piling the mess into little stacks. She’d leave them there to sit for months until the original stack had spawned cousins on every flat place in the room. Eventually, housecleaning for her became a matter of stacking and restacking the little piles in manic little dance.
To be fair, I have to contrast that with the numerous guy roommates I had who never even bothered to classify their filth.
I had another female roommate who was the absolutley nastiest housekeeper every. Dirty dishes, laundry all sorts of disgusting stuff everywhere. Plus, she liked to start Sunday mornings with cigarettes, strong espresso and fried liver.
I try not to dwell on it.
Okay, that all said, I recognize where I would be without my current roommate, my wife. I know that I’d be eating top ramen from a mug, I’d have some sort of Nagel print on my wall and one threadbare towel hanging in my bathroom.
It’s nice being civilized.