I really can't help but feel I'm the problem, the prima donna with too many demands.
Inevitably in every living situation it manages to manifest. 
Perhaps I am too particular? 
Apparently it's too tall of an order to rent a room in a house where there aren't cobwebs in every corner, the clutter of purported recyclables proliferating in every imaginable space, the distinct scent of mismanaged litter boxes, the caked on deposits of hard water, mold, and scum in the showers and sinks, the trail of debris dragged in and dispersed from the doorway to the common areas. And I'm a prude for choosing not to live in this lord of the flies existence where I continually play "the floor is lava". I've made attempts to clean, mind you, but wind up feeling like Sisyphus as the glazed over tenants spectate bewilderedly as their hamster for a brain is going into overdrive on it's jogging wheel with the revelation that "Oh, that's what that stick with straw bristles at one end is for..." I swept the patio free of leaves and dirt and the vacuumed problem areas inside; within the week the floor was texturized with broken leaves, dirt, assorted hairs and cat litter again.


No one is interested in reciprocating or making a concerted effort, they choose to let entropy run its course and that is precisely what is so maddening! This cast of characters would rather sit around and accept their fate than be willing to put forth a modicum of energy to make everyone's situation better. Take some fucking pride in your life, you apparently think enough of animals to be a vegetarian but you would rather live in squalor daring to disregard laziness in the veil of some pseudo-ecological hippy bullshit. Explain that to me again, this time with greater clarity and maybe when you're done with that story you can regale me with the tale of how you tolerated a malfunctioning refrigerator and were only prompted to move when your ice cream began to thaw. Oh wait, no, no, I'm thinking of the other refrigerator story - Yeah, the one after that one where you bought a replacement online but made sure it was the cheapest model you could find because you weren't willing to spend any of your money on something the landlord is legally responsible for even though you've lived here for 8 years and lack forward momentum but were somehow disappointed with your purchase because it "wasn't what you thought it was going to be".


But, I cannot judge! We're all entitled to our own ways of living and I willingly signed on to this madness. Ultimately, that's the unnerving bit. I can only blame myself because I'm every bit as responsible for jumping into this dimwitted double dutch in my haste to solidify my housing situation. In the off chance I can make it beyond self-deprecation when I attempt to explain this situation to others, they aren't the least bit receptive to my plight outside of my mother who blessed me with this curse of cleanliness. In admitting that fact, I unsure as to what's worse: the fact that I am a male who is apparently too overbearing when it comes to cleanliness and too quick to judge or the fact that I am nearing 30 and still   a "mama's boy".