Splish-splash, I was ... taking a bath?

S has some very interesting bathroom habits. I can't really figure them out, and will take any suggestions anyone has for what is going on. More than once a day, S comes out of his room with a bath towel around his neck. Every time he does I think "Thank God! He's going to shower." He then says to whoever is in the house, "I'm going to go in the bathroom. Do you need to get in there first?" It's really rather polite of him, actually. He then proceeds to lock himself in the bathroom for 45 minutes or so, running the water and making all sorts of crazy splashing sounds. You'd have to think he's showering or taking a bath or something. His face is definitely wet when he comes out, and usually his hair is as well. However, if you go into the bathroom after all is this, the shower and tub are completely dry. Of course, he still smells as well.

This isn't to say that he never showers. I believe he does. Occasionally. But I'm dying to know what he does with all of this time in the bathroom. Any ideas out there? I have a couple.

He may have a rubber ducky hidden someplace that he plays with in the sink. The counter around his sink (thank God he has his own sink. He hasn't cleaned it in the entire time he has lived there and I refuse to do it.) is always completely soaked, so it's clearly the sink that produces all of this splashy water.

He may also be playing war games or something (You sunk my battleship!). I've seen no evidence of battleships or destroyers though.

The water could be a mask for more sinister "personal" activities. Oh God, tell me it's not that one!

He does have some weird de-stress, detoxification rituals that he goes through as well. (More details some other day.) Maybe the splashing and the water sounds help him with those? Like Enya music? I'm not sure I buy that though, as he usually does them in the living room as well.

So what am I left with? Well, I have a dirty bathroom, which proves that there is no truth to the myth that if one thing gets dirtier and more smelly, that something else gets cleaner and less smelly. I'm left with a still smelly S, and a whole bunch of questions about what the hell is going on in that room for all that time.

Seriously. Suggestions? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Can we talk about dishes for a minute?

Here are a couple of interesting observations about the urban jungle species S. S has a few dishes that he brought with him when he moved in. A plate, a bowl, some silverware, a cup or two as well. Now, the apartment has a dishwasher. It’s fully functioning, and does a pretty good job. Yet we observe that the species S refuses to use it. There is also ample antibacterial Palmolive, and a brush on the sink, which I run through the dishwasher regularly to sanitize. The species S refuses to use these as well. I think it’s his fear of clean rearing its ugly (smelly?) head again. S’s method of cleaning dishes is as follows.

Step 1: Turn on water (Go S!)
Step 2: Hold dish under water. (He’s doing so well so far!)
Step 3: Raise right hand. (Uh oh, where is he going with this?)
Step 4: Make motion with right hand half way between a wave and a one handed clap. (I’m just confused at this point.)
Step 5: Lower right hand onto dish in sink, while continuing to make weird motion with hand. (It’s really kinda funny to watch. Like an upside down come hither motion)
Step 6: Scratch at dish with hand motion.
Step 7: Hold dish up close to face and examine.
Step 8: If necessary, use two fingers to pick at stuck on food.
Step 9: Re-examine closely, lifting glasses to forehead if necessary.
Step 9: Place dish in dish drainer.

Now, a few things really bother me about this.

1.EWWWWW!!!!! Just, EWWW!
2. Seriously, no soap? Seriously? Seriously?
3. What the hell is wrong with the brush?

I asked him about the brush. His response? Oh, that’s probably dirtier than my hand. Three things here, as I mentioned, I run the brush through the dishwasher, which sanitizes it. The Palmolive is antibacterial. And didn't I mention the no soap? That means no soap on his hand either. Based on smell, the brush is definitely cleaner.

All of this leads to a few funny (sad) occurences. The first is that whenever I see my silverware, glasses, bowls, etc. in the drainer, I come along and take them from there and put them in the dishwasher so they get actually washed. This also means that whenever I go to use a "clean" pot, I have to wash it ahead of time (including with soap).

Megan was getting ready to make something a few weeks ago, and looked at the pots on the stove (where the species S tends to put them after he washes them) and asked me if they were clean. I said "I think so" (Meaning, not if we're going to use it), but apparently she wasn't in on the meaning. She picked one of them up, and looked at it closely, and whirled on me. The conversation that followed sounded a bit like Grey's Anatomy.

Her: You call this clean? Seriously? Seriously?
Me: I don't know.
Her: Look at it! Seriously?
Me: What? Ewww ...
Her: Seriously! It has shmutz all over it!
Me: (Points towards living room, where S is) Hey, I'm not the one who used it or "washed" it.

She then went in the living room and had a similar conversation with him, except that every time she said "Seriously?" to him, he responded with "Yes, it's clean. Clean enough, right?" Trust me. It wasn't. Not even close.

So S decided that Meg is probably a little nuts, and maybe a little too stressed. I think Megan realized for the first time just how gross S really is, and it wasn't just me complaining. (It took her a few times to notice the smell too. You have to be downwind.) Plush, she did some hyper kitchen cleaning after that. All in all, it was probably a pretty good day for me. Until later, when I found my silverware, glass and bowl in the drainer, and had another skincrawl moment.

Can we talk about paper towels and garbage for a minute?

So, among his other annoying habits, S has this wonderful habit of ripping off only half of a sheet of paper towel every time he takes one. (Due to his cleanliness issues, luckily it isn't too often.) I have one of those stand up paper towel holders, where the sheets come off sideways. He doesn't just rip from the top, halfway across a sheet, leaving a fully attached, half sheet. Instead, he grabs the sheet, goes halfway down, and tears straight across, leaving the bottom half of the piece of paper towel. I don't think I'm explaining this well. Imagine that the piece of paper towel, coming off of the stand up roll is a capital B He doesn't rip down from the top of the B halfway across, he rips off the top half of the B leaving only the part below the midline of the B. Does that make more sense? Maybe not.

I'm not sure why he does this, just like I'm not sure why he does anything he does. I have some ideas, though.

1. Being the hippie he is, he thinks that this conserves and saves the environment.

He'd be wrong of course, because what happens is that I just come along behind him and get stuck taking a sheet and a half of paper towel. Net result = Still two whole sheets used. I also mutter some choice things, which at least contributes to noise pollution, and maybe a little more carbon dioxide, and a little less oxygen in the atmosphere.

2. His aversion to cleanliness extends to paper towels.

He's afraid that taking a whole sheet would absorb too much of his smell and filth. Imagine, if you will, pigpen, with his cloud of dirt, only with S, it's a cloud of smell and dirt. Paper absorbs odor. Just borrow a book from a smoker if you don't believe me. I wonder if he's afraid that taking the whole sheet will soak up too much of his smell.

Speaking of smell, I came home last night after not being home for 24 hours, and though it had been over 90 degrees during the day, he had every window closed, and no air conditioner running. The stink that usually stays in his room had permeated the entire house. Thrilling! Did I mention that his toiletries are in the bathroom, but I've never seen any record of deodorant?

On to trash. I was leaving again after my 5 minute visit last night, and not coming back until tonight, and last night was both trash and recycling. S may or may not know this. He's lived there for 2 full months now, and his big contribution to trash and recycling is that the other day he took out a smelly trash bag and left it on the back deck of our third floor apartment. Mind you, down the two flights of stairs there is a trash barrel, that every Sunday night I pull out to the curb. So I grabbed my overnight stuff, and the two empty pizza boxes, and the trash bag inside the house, and the one on the deck (which smelled OH so good three days after he put it out in 95 degree heat) and prepared to make my descent. Only one problem. Big recycling bin and paper recycling still had to be brought out and I was out of hands. Now, I assume that S thinks we have some kind of trash and recycling fairy that deals with these sorts of things, but as much as it hurt me, I decided to burst his bubble. Our conversation follows.


Me: (knock, knock, pause, crack door while holding breath) Hey, can you do me a favor?
S: (stares blankly at me) huh?
Me: Can you do me a favor?
S: Uh, sure.
Me: I have all of the trash, which I'm taking down now (in my head: just like every other week you lazy ass), but I'm not going to be back until tomorrow. Would you mind taking down the recycling bin and the box of paper recycling on top of it.
S: (stares blankly for a second) uh, OK ...
Me: Thank you. See you tomorrow.
S: Wait, which one?
Me: I'll talk slower. T-h-e o-n-e w-i-t-h t-h-e p-a-p-e-r r-e-c-y-c-l-i-n-g o-n t-o-p. The non-returnable containers.
S: Just the one with the papers on top?
Me: Ding ding ding. We have a winner. Get that boy a prize. See you tomorrow.
S: Oh, you're not coming back?
Me: Umm. Sure, wait up for me.


Anyone want to bet me that when I get home today that he has somehow managed to F it up? Place your bets!

Is it Catchy?

I think the smell of S may be contagious. Gross, eh? Megan was in the shower this morning, and when she was finished and picked up her towel she asked me to smell S's basket on the counter, next to where her towel had been. Now, I'm always stuffy in the morning, so I couldn't really smell anything, though I've noticed that his room has a regular S odor now. So I told her that I couldn't really smell anything, but I wasn't really willing to get very close to find out. Then she holds up her towel (Thanks for the view, btw.) and tells me to smell that. I was much more willing to put that right up to my nose, because I figure he hasn't actually touched that, and i definitely caught a faint B.O., S-like smell. So I'm very concerned now, because I'm wondering what else his smell may be clinging to. I go out of my way to push him towards the leather chair in the living room, rather than the microfiber couch, because I figure the leather is less likely to soak his stink in deep. When I see him head for the living room, I try to jump on the couch so that he'll sit on the chair. He's pretty much conditioned to go only to the chair now, so that may be one crisis averted, but now I'm wondering what else I need to do. Do I need to cover all of the furniture in drop cloths, like the scary old houses on Scooby Doo? Paper line the carpets? Spend thousands on an air purification system? Suddenly this cost saving move is sounding kinda expensive!

Mononucleosis or Narcolepsy?

One of S's more annoying habits is that he never leaves the house. I mean never. He's a 28 or 29 year old college junior, at least he will be in a few weeks, and he has spent the entire summer lounging in the house, and more frequently, sleeping. I don't mean normal sleeping, I mean nearly constant, end stage cancer sleeping. No job, no hobby, nothing to do all day but sit in my house and snore away.

Last night, Meg and I got home around 5:45. Where was S? In his room sleeping of course. We left and worked on the hovel for a few hours, ate cheese steaks, and came back around 9. S's light was still off. Was he home, or had he left? We weren't sure until he came out of his room 40 minutes later, went in to the bathroom, splashed around a little (no, the smell didn't go away), and then went back into his room and went back to sleep. So let's review. He was sleeping when we left the house in the morning. Sleeping when we came home, sleeping when we came home again, and sleeping when we went to bed. Rinse, Lather, Repeat, every day. Megan got up to pee at 3 AM, and he had chosen that great hour to finally rise from the dead and watch TV. I wonder if he secretly rules the world from 1 AM to 4 AM.

So rather than the age old question of "Is it live, or is it Memorex?" I must ask the new age question. Is it mono, or is it narcolepsy?

Welcome!

This is the beginning of a new era (or error, depending on who you ask) for me. I recently took a roommate, who, if you can't tell by the title, kinda smells. OK, kinda is too nice. He REEKS to high heaven. I don't know how to describe it exactly. I'd say maybe it is a mixture of sweat, hippie, death and moldy cheese. All I can tell you is that it is terrible.

I intend to use this forum not necessarily to complain about the smell, though I imagine that will happen, but also to share funny (or sad) stories about being 31 and having a roommate again, something I never thought I'd do. I have plenty saved up from the last few months, and I'm sure many more will surface in the days ahead. Beyond the smell, "S" is also just a little (read: a lot) strange. Details to follow. So I hope you enjoy my tales of living with "S."