Domestic Adventures

In introducing the wonders that Australia has to offer, I have rudely forgotten to give you all a house tour. Here are some fun stories that have happened at home.

The Kitchen of Death

I live in off campus housing that caters to students at the university. I have an awesome roommate with whom I share a bedroom, an excessive closet, a cozy living/dining room, an intimate study, a minimally functioning kitchenette, a nicely sized bathroom, and - interestingly enough - a birthday (both of us were born on July 25th, though she is one year older than I am). 

Like we do back home in a dorm, she and I had to work together to fill out a room assessment form on which we record any problems with the room so that they can rightfully charge us for any other malfunctions when we leave. Elle, my roommate, was the appliance tester and I was the scribe.

This is how our conversations went.

Me: Shower?

Elle: A little leaky.

Me: Desks?

Elle: A little scratched.

Clearly riveting. Until...

Me: Burners?

Elle: The first one doesn't light. (pause) The second one doesn't light. (pause) The third one lights. (dramatic pause) Danielle, the gas won't turn off.

Me: haha. (thinking she thinks she's so funny. moves on to next category.)

And then I smelled the gas, and realized that our fourth burner not only did not light, but it did not turn off. The gas was spilling into the room on high, and Elle could not get the knob to budge. I run over, now panicking, and, in my attempt to save our lives, promptly pull off the knob. Now the gas is pouring into the room and the knob is in my hand. If there is a future for us, it seems bleak. Elle tells me she is going to run downstairs to get help while I try my best to reattach the knob. Just as she is about to leave, I finally got the knob to turn, prying with my fingernails as leverage. We lightheaded survivors laughed in the face of impending combustion as we opened the windows to air out the room and labeled the burner as unusable. 

The Roommate From Hell

I wake up to see that Elle has already woken, as always, and I groggily stumble my way into the bathroom. I brush my teeth. I wash my face. I put in my contacts. The left one feels weird. Then I remember that I changed the left one yesterday so it might be because the contact is still new. I rub it. That's better. I get in the shower. I take a long one. I'm not supposed to do that because Australia is going through a drought but I do it anyway. The hot water feels nice after a late night out. I can't see through the steam. I get shampoo in my eye. The left one. It burns. I rub it. That's a little better. My vision's a bit fuzzy. Must be the shampoo and the steam. I get out of the shower. The bathroom is steamy from the hot water. I can't see myself in the mirror. That's a sign of a great shower. I get dressed and sit at my computer. Elle gets in the shower.

Now my eyes are a little weird. I can see perfectly out of my right eye, but my left contact is fuzzy. I decide to stick it out for fifteen minutes. I don't want to change my left contact two days in a row. 

Elle comes out of the shower. "Danielle, is your vision blurry?"

Oh my god how did she know? "Yeah, actually. Why?"

She starts describing her morning routine and how she thought she had left her contact case on the counter when it finally dawns on me. Some roommates use other roommates' razors. Some sexile frequently. Some borrow clothes, steal food, use makeup, and the list of inconsiderate things goes on and on. I stole my roommates contact lenses. I, blind and sleepy, mixed up the cases and wore my roommates contact lenses for an hour or two without realizing, and I wouldn't have known had she not said something.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am the roommate from hell.

Now my contact case is safely tucked away with a huge "DZ" written in bold. As blind as I can be, I can't miss that marking! ...we hope.