we had bin related flatmate problems.We lived in a four bedroomed flat, but there were only 3 of us, so we had to have odd people in the 4th room. One guy refused to empty the bin, coz most of the rubbish in it wasn't his. We tried topoint out that we weren't one single entity, and that most of the rubbish wasn't mine, and most of it wasn't actually any single persons - but he refused to believe us.
(,
Mon 17 Nov 2003, 15:08,
archived)
ExactlyI think this is where his bin thing stemmed from - we were pretty lazy at emptying the damn thing anyway, but the shouting and arguing came about because we put rubbish in his bin.
As with all the problems, they were things he'd decided upon but not told anyone else about.
I once asked how his PhD was going and he stopped, sighed, turned around and stared at me. Then he very slowly said, "That. Is. None. Of. Your. Business."
Nice chap.
(As with all the problems, they were things he'd decided upon but not told anyone else about.
I once asked how his PhD was going and he stopped, sighed, turned around and stared at me. Then he very slowly said, "That. Is. None. Of. Your. Business."
Nice chap.
chthonic,
Mon 17 Nov 2003, 15:23,
archived)
more bin problemsI currently live in a small apartment complex. There is a huge communal dumpster and several communal recycling bins in the parking lot. My apartment is all of fifty feet away from aforementioned receptacles (sp?), and yet my roommates insist on leaving bags of trash and/or recycling on our front porch for two to three days at a time. Honestly, if the dumpster were any closer it would be in our front yard. It's not exactly invigorating excercise to walk all the way to the dumpster with a full bin liner in your hand.
At night, the feral cats come. They chew the bin liners open or rummage through the bags of recycleables, looking for tasty tidbits to snack on. When they find the half-eaten tins of cat food that Lord Spoiled Prince Kitty (not mine, obviously) turns his nose up at, they dig in, the motion of their eating pushing the tins across the concrete porch makes these wierd scraping/chewing noises. It's not all that bad, especially when I convince myself I don't have to clean it up, but when you wake at 2am to hear a metal scraping sound on right outside your window it can be quite scary.
Now the little bastards have taken to appearing on our porch during the daytime. They look at me inquisitively, as if to say "Well? Where's the food, bitch?" Have they no shame?! And even after the rubbish has been desecrated by the local cats, my roommates will still leave it out another day or two. I guess rubbish, like wine, has to fully mature.
(,
Thu 20 Nov 2003, 21:15,
archived)
At night, the feral cats come. They chew the bin liners open or rummage through the bags of recycleables, looking for tasty tidbits to snack on. When they find the half-eaten tins of cat food that Lord Spoiled Prince Kitty (not mine, obviously) turns his nose up at, they dig in, the motion of their eating pushing the tins across the concrete porch makes these wierd scraping/chewing noises. It's not all that bad, especially when I convince myself I don't have to clean it up, but when you wake at 2am to hear a metal scraping sound on right outside your window it can be quite scary.
Now the little bastards have taken to appearing on our porch during the daytime. They look at me inquisitively, as if to say "Well? Where's the food, bitch?" Have they no shame?! And even after the rubbish has been desecrated by the local cats, my roommates will still leave it out another day or two. I guess rubbish, like wine, has to fully mature.