Where are my house elves?

There are some people in this world who we are bound to find ridiculous or infuriating.

Sometimes, those people live in close quarters with you.

In my house, we have a phantom pooer (yup. there's someone who sometimes just poos all over the floor in varying bathrooms.) and one resident who borders on the sociopathic (I wish that I were using more hyperbole here than I am).

These characters, in combination with the long litany of troubles with our house that is very literally falling apart (the heat goes out, the electricity goes out, nothing can be used in the kitchen, the laundry goes out, the shower goes out thus leaving us with ONE shower for 19 people, they're afraid one of the ceilings will collapse...I could go on), and our college's response to these troubles (which is most often "well what have you done to make heat/electricity/kitchen appliances/laundry/shower go out"? when it's just an old crappy house that they've crammed us into to make money, though they are perpetually trying to guilt us into gratitude for somewhere to live)---have driven me to my wits end. This is sheer madness.

This house is one of the nuttiest places I've lived, and I have lived with a whole lot of nutters in a whole lot of nutty places (e.g. someone we later found out was a drug dealer, bringing 4am police raids and under cover cops sitting in their cars across the street....or the one who got drunk & nearly naked and cut up a wedding dress in the middle of the living room floor in the middle of the night).

I feel that documenting one of these moments of frustration is part of an honest portrayal of Oxfordia. It is kind of shit sometimes....and sometimes, in this house, quite literally. It's not quite Hogwarts.


That is all.