Messiness is adjacent to devilishness

In fact, they're next-door neighbors and best friends. Unfortunately, they also spend quite a bit of time here at the good ol' Casa Blanca.

One of the roommates (let's call him, oh, say Horty) seems to love those little packets of sugarless flavoring meant to be added to bottled water. Except he adds them to glasses of water. In essence, there's nothing wrong with this. In practice, however, he always manages to get a fair amount of the cranberry-whatever powder and a little bit of the water on the counter, yielding two results. One, the kitchen is plagued by red stains on every square inch of counter top. Two, the bottom of the glass picks up some of the liquid mess, and deposits red rings wherever Horty places it.

Then, there's the sink. Because we have no dishwasher, the sink is the dish depository. Very rarely do I witness roommates washing dishes. Or emptying the drying rack so that more can be washed. It's gotten so bad that most of us just use paper plates. Another roommate (umm, Apparel, Housing, and Resource Management? How about just Goliath, instead?) only uses one glass, which he keeps locked away in his cupboard, so that he'll always have a clean one.

Next, there's the garbage. Apparently, Horty, Archy, and Goliath are in on a game that's never been explained to me. Luckily, having lived with guys like this before, I've been witnessed the ritual. I don't think it has a name, but if it did, I think it would be Pile the Garbage as High above the Top of the Trashcan as Possible. I don't think there is one clear winner in this game, but there's definitely a loser. I can see at least two ways to lose. One, make the pile of garbage fall over. This generally (though not always -- for example, if the event goes unwitnessed, the loser may just restack the garbage, if possible) results in the loser having to clean up and take out the mess (which usually requires two or three more full garbage bags, since it all clearly won't fit in the one in the can). Two, lose your nerve, much like a game of chicken. I'm rather inclined to the latter.

Finally, I present the worst part of this messy house: the unfriendly neighborhood skunk. (Well, apparently not so unfriendly that our neighbors refuse to feed him.) I've been told that Horty once caught him in a trap, but before he was aware and able to do something about it, Sister Stauffer, the secretary at the adjacently-located Institute building, released the skunk. Not even miles away in the country or anything, but right back in the neighborhood! Over the summer, it was an unusual week when we were not made olfactorily aware of his presence two or three times. Fortunately, the frequency dropped off with the advent of the school year. However, last night, he struck again, the first time in a few weeks. He is able to penetrate the thickest of walls, the tightest of windows. Being a nocturnal creature, Mr. Skunk makes our sleeping difficult. Last night, I curled up under my covers, and I managed to sleep like that for a few hours. Until I awoke with a killing pain in my neck.

Some things will surely not be missed.