After wondering futilely what lived on the floor of my roommates room, at last I can authoritively hold forth.
Within the bounds of a 8 by 10 space, there were 7 pop tins, 5 water bottles, 33 of my sterling teaspoons, two bowls, five plates, and 3 huge hefty garbage bags of scrap paper, clippings and other more sinister things. And how do I know this? I took advantage of an extra day off to make good my threat of cleaning it myself. This undertaking was only possible as said roommate was not home for a few days.
Believe it or not, I did not find it disgusting nor upsetting. I found it very calming and satisfying.
It was just totally time to get that damn beast under control.
And now, as the machines finish the last of multiple piles of laundry, I am relaxed and happier than I have been for a long long time.
And the roommate?
She said a guilty thank-you although I am sure part of her wants to kill me.
Luckily the part that is grateful is bigger.
