Was I the arsehole?

I lived with a person once and they were very … Messy is the wrong word. Messy implies that stuff has been left around, on an area that was previously clean. That was not the case. Things would be tidied on a fairly regular basis, but nothing was cleaned. So the dishes would get done, but the splatter would remain on the counter. The clothes were washed, but the laundry itself never tended.

Overall, living with them was great. I am not the cleanest person by far, so I didn’t need a flat mate up my arse about my chairdrobe or whatever. But periodically it got so bad that actual cleaning needed to happen.

That might be because we were hosting a party, or because we were moving from one rental to another, or just because I do have a limit for how much filth I can handle.

And that’s where it would get interesting.

If I am the only one in any given housing situation who minds the filth, is it wrong of me to expect help cleaning? On one hand, I did not make the mess alone, and I’m not the only person who enjoys it clean (even if the mess isn’t negatively impacting anyone else.) On the other hand, why should anyone have to do something just to make me happy? 

If I really enjoyed loud music, I wouldn’t expect everyone else to listen to my music on full blast, I’d wear headphones. Mmm, but then if their music was so loud that I couldn’t hear my music inside my own headphones, I would ask them to turn it down or get their own headphones. And I don’t feel like it would be wrong of me to ask them not to pollute the air with their doof doof… So by that logic, I am okay to ask my flatmate to wipe down the cupboard on occasion. But cleaning takes a lot more time and effort, so it’s probably not really comparable.

As I prepare my home for another rental inspection, I have plenty of time to look back over the hundred other times I’ve been in this position, including working till 10pm at a hotel one time, because their inspection was the next day. We all piled into one of the rooms and my supervisor made us fresh chai when we were finished. We all sat on the floor, slumped against the walls so we didn’t muss the bedding, while our boss thanked us. It’s crazy to look back and think she was nervous the inspectors would find the hotel unsatisfactory – she was such a powerful, intimidating, well-put together woman and yet her concerns kept the housekeeping team scrubbing corners until well-past dinner.

And while I’m remembering, I think of arguing with that flatmate. Was I the arsehole? Was it truly a “me problem”? Or could the work have been halved and the panic avoided? Guess I’ll never know.

Miriam Cumming has been renting since ne was fifteen-years-old, and is very over it. When they’re not panic-cleaning, Miriam enjoys talking about books over on Instagram and being as queer as possible.