I hate living with people.
I currently share a house with three others, but a fourth will be added when a room has been renovated to a standard where you can actually live in there.
When I moved in, I partly fooled myself into thinking I’d like to live with people as it would be more sociable, but if I’m completely honest it was because I had a shitty studio flat where I had to cook in my bedroom, and that got boiling hot in summer, freezing cold in winter, and had no central heating.
I also didn’t have a washing machine (or room for one), and walking to/from the launderette wasted a lot of a weekend day.

Today I’ve had a shit day. I knew that a long time before I got home.
I’m tired, I’ve fucked my sleep pattern up, and feel like I’m wasting a huge percentage of time every week, that I should be spending doing something.

But that can’t be any excuse for other peoples complete lack of ability to wash anything up?
How hard is it to scrape the ketchup off a plate, so it’s clean?
If you ate in a restaurant and there was some old scummy ketchup on the edge of a knife you were eating from, you’d ask for a clean one.
I’ve just had to wash up every plate (two of which I had used), but one was in the cupboard, all caked in some previous meal.

I’ve put that plate back next to the sink to be washed up fucking properly like the hygiene policeman that I am, but it’ll end up being me that washes it up anyway, because nobody else cares.

And the annoyance doesn’t stop there.
When people do wash up, and do it to a mediocre standard that passes my test, they occasionally dry it up, then leave it out on top of the cooker.
We’ve got a cupboard for pans, another for plates, etc. If it’s washed, clean and dry, just put it away.
Otherwise I have to put it away when I come to do some cooking.

I’m not sure who keeps doing it, but there is some sort of pasta sauce or ketchup on the side of my kettle at the moment. (Yes, mine – I bought it!)
I’ve cleaned it recently, and it’s back there again.
How does that even happen?
I must admit I’m no amateur to using a kettle, but I fill it with water, boil it, then add it to the mug/bowl/pan I’m using. At no point do I smear ketchup all down the side of it.
It’s not even on the handle so it isn’t just coming off their hands. I’ve thought through the possibilities, and I can’t fathom it out.

Of the 10 cups we have in the house, 3 of them are currently clean.
There’s a few lying around the living room and a glass half full/empty of water (always – why not just put less in, if you don’t want all of it?)
Between 4 of us, it’d probably be nice to have a few more. But I’ll be fucked if I’m buying any more, as I bought all of them to start with.

There’s an iron still plugged in (thankfully switched off at the wall) that someone hasn’t bothered to put away. My iron, yes.

And one of my housemates just rang the doorbell because he’d lost his keys. Why do people lose keys so easily? I’ve never lost a set of keys in my life, and maybe it’s down to the fact I assume that anyone who has my keys can steal whatever they’re currently keeping locked up.
E.g. It’s not a key – it’s my laptop, TV and everything else I own of value.
Sadly in a shared house, it’s exactly the same if they lose their keys.

Some of them are also really shit with bills.

Yet sadly, thanks to my lousy pay, I’m unable to afford to live alone.
I’m forced to live with other bloody people.
Thanks to the good schools in my area, and other niceties, despite the recession, houses are still valued at over £300,000 in my street.
The knock-on of living in an area which isn’t full of chavs and mostly free of fucktards, means I couldn’t rent a one-bedroom flat here without nearly doubling my salary.
According to RightMove’s iPhone app, I can’t even downsize and down err… people. Switching to a 2 bedroom flat and finding someone who would only wind me up slightly, would still involve me paying another £100 a month in rent alone, plus increased council tax and other bills.

It makes me laugh to hear people who own property moaning about the value dropping by 0.1%. “Oh woe is me. I’ll have to wait another year to retire”.
Arseholes.
If a £300,000 house drops in value by even 20%(and the market shits itself at 1%), then it’s worth £240,000. As long as you don’t sell it, it makes no difference to anyone.
If you’ve cleared the mortgage, then just sit and wait, or sell it if you need the money. If you’re going end up in negative equity by selling, then don’t sell it.
Property is an investment after all. Investments can/should go down as well as up.

Frankly a depreciation of 20% in any other area would be superb. Imagine if a £200 Xbox was worth £160 5 years later on eBay.
To people on a salary of say £20,000 the difference between a £240,000 house and a £300,000 house is absolutely nothing. Even two people on £20,000 each, buying a house together. No difference.

Just who do these price rises benefit anyway?
I once got chatting to someone who owned a large house in the Clifton area, worth an absolute fortune. They told me it was no benefit to them at all. If they sold it, they’d still have to buy another elsewhere, which in the nicer areas, would also have risen a lot. Unless they were planning on living in a shed, whether it was worth £200,000 or £400,000, it was no benefit whatsoever.

Now as I’m grumpy and tired. And tired because grumpy. I’m going to attempt to get an hour’s sleep while my neighbours bang around and randomly shout, before I go back to my badly paid job where stoners can’t decide which fucking cigarettes they want. I hate people.