It was a lovely fall day and I was back at college for my senior year. I was living in a townhouse with four other girls and I was thrilled at having so many people around to bug when I get into my, “I don’t want to work, so TALK TO ME” phase of the paper writing process.

 

In the townhouse on the top floor, there was a bedroom that had two people sharing one room and one single bedroom. The best part of all was the fact that we had our own private bathroom. I could finally poop in peace (instead of bringing a CD player or a magazine in the dorm bathrooms like I used to do). Also, I could finally buy all those cute bathroom sets at Bed, Bath, and Beyond that I always saw and never had a reason to purchase. I picked the frogs swimming in some green water set.

 

Now, this will come as I surprise, but I didn’t have a lot of money when I was in college, so making this splurge on the bathroom set was a bit of a big deal for me. However, I was sharing the room with my best friend and I figured we were worth having a cute bathroom set with swimming frogs.

 

Well, the other roommate wasn’t as, I don’t know, open to sharing as we were. My B.F.F. and I were like, “Hey whatever money we have, we just share.” I, to this day, am still like that. I don’t keep tallies in my head of who owes me what because I feel like someday I might need some help and I hope they will remember I helped them. This theory has served me well.

 

But I digress.

 

So, there it was like the third day we were back in the townhouse at school and my B.F.F. said, “What happened to the trash can in our bathroom?” I had no idea what she was talking about, so she got the trashcan and carried it into our room. Well, on the one side of the clear, plastic trashcan were these white filmy streaks. I had no idea how the trashcan got like that and I was getting mad because I just purchased that like not even a week before and it looked pretty damn ruined. We continued staring at the side of the trashcan willing it to tell us what happened, when my B.F.F. looked at the bottom of the trashcan, on top of the swimming frog, she saw a cotton ball with nail polish on it. That’s right, someone threw out a cotton ball with nail polish remover and nail polish into my twenty-five dollar trashcan.

As we looked at each other, we heard a noise in the hall. There was roommate number three walking by blowing on her just polished nails. Because we were passive aggressive, we kindly asked her if she knew what happened to the trashcan. Unfortunately, she had no idea. So we just continued trying to clean the film off the trashcan while we spoke very loudly how it seemed that nail polish remover somehow managed to just float into my trashcan and ruin it. Who would put a cotton ball with nail polish remover in a clear, plastic trashcan? Was it the ghost of townhouses past? Was it a gnome?

 

But it got worse.

 

We may not have had any money, but we made sure we had toilet paper. We came up with a plan that one month, one of us would go to the store and buy one of those jumbo twenty four rolls in one bag things of toilet paper and the next month the other person would go and buy another jumbo thingy. Well, I guess roommate number three wasn’t down with our plan.

 

When it came time for month number three, we just looked at roommate number three. She just smiled and acted like nothing was wrong as she walked into the bathroom and used our toilet paper.

 

We were beyond annoyed. First she ruined the trashcan and now she can’t even chip in to buy some damn toilet paper? If she just made a slight effort, we wouldn’t have been so mad. But every time she would go into the bathroom and we heard the toilet flush, it sent us in a rage. We couldn’t understand. Did she think that the toilet paper fairy came and just deposited rolls of toilet paper into our bathroom? We were tempted to take the roll out of the bathroom and just carry it in when we needed it. But, we couldn’t bring ourselves to be that cruel.     

 

She never cleaned the bathroom. I guess she thought the gnomes just showed up at night and, with the help of the scrubbing bubbles, they all quietly cleaned the bathroom. If she saw us cleaning the bathroom, she would just silently walk by. Perhaps if she didn’t acknowledge the fact that we were scrapping her crap off the toilet seat, then it wasn’t happening.

 

Now, don’t get me wrong. If someone can’t afford toilet paper, then that is fine. There are always other ways you can help out. Cleaning the bathroom with our cleaning supplies is just one example. It wasn’t that she didn’t have money. Actually, I don’t know what it was that made her think we were her bathroom slaves who delivered soft comfy toilet paper for her bum.

 

I guess others just don’t share in responsibility the way I do or perhaps it is because people don’t think they way I think. You can’t put a price on good manners and common courtesy.    

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