I have a roommate. He is a slob.

There was probably a time when I wouldn't mind messes. I mean, a pile of dirty clothes is still not unheard of when it comes to discussing the state of my laundry. But I think I've matured over the years (it would actually be pretty embarassing if I didn't) and have come to expect a standard of kitchen and bathroom cleanliness. Just on the surface (no pun intended), the speed and type of digusting stuff that can accumulate and grow is something to consider on a regular and periodic basis.

Since returning from Bonn, a pile of dishes continued to grow in the communal space that I share with my roommate*. Like pimple on a supermodel's face it demands attention in the landscape of our kitchen. However, as high as one is able to build things, there is a limit. And that limit has been reached. By my unofficial count there are about 10 dishes stacked right by the sink asking... nay, pleading to be washed.

One would think that in realizing that a terminus height had been reached, lest roommate tempt fate and likely 10 broken dishes, that roommate would consider washing them.

What has roommate done?

Started a new pile next to the old one.


Teeks

*THE EVENTS, CHARACTERS DESCRIBED ABOVE ARE FICTITIOUS. ANY SIMILARITY TO ACTUAL PERSONS, LIVING OR DEAD, IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL. THAT IS TO SAY, PLEASE DON'T MURDER ME IN MY SLEEP, COOLEST ROOMMATE... EVAR! THANKS!