Everything I’m About To Tell You About My Craigslist Roommate Is True
By: Geoffrey Line
Tags: Craigslist, Humor, Comedy, Roommates, Apartments

Everything I’m About To Tell You About My Craigslist Roommate Is True

He has a snake…

Photo courtesy of Pixabay

He has a snake.



He keeps a dead mouse in the freezer, for his snake.

The snake has not eaten in three months.



I have a cat.



My roommate has severe sleep apnea.

Our bedrooms share a wall.

He sleeps from 4pm to 11am.

I know because I cannot sleep at any point during this time.

He does not clean his hair from the shower’s drain.

He has a ponytail.



He does not know how to use a toilet bowl brush.

He does not know paper towel can’t be flushed.



He does not do dishes.



He does not have dishes.

He fills my coffee mug with hot water to thaw his dead mouse.

(When she calls to ask how you like the mug she handcrafted in a make-it-yourself pottery studio, and the answer is your Craigslist roommate has been dangling a frozen mouse into it by the tail, what do you tell your aunt, from Portland?)

The snake does not eat the mouse.



The snake has not eaten in three months.



He eats at 2am.

He soaks penne in tubs of cold water.

He never cooks the noodles and I don’t know why.

He lost his sales job at a mattress store, after he signed our lease.

He says it was a simple misunderstanding.

He says management suspects him of stealing $250 cash.



He’s offered to deliver my share of rent, himself, in-person.



He showed no offence when I declined.

He told me he was sorry for not paying the utilities.

He told me he was sorry for not answering my messages.

He told me he was sorry he could not pay rent.



Then he left for a ten-day family trip to Cuba.

He returned in a seersucker suit with a goatee and a fedora.



Because he does not pick up his mail or Amazon deliveries, the hallway is crowded with boxes containing pieces of the Battle of Hogwarts Lego Kit and Legend of Zelda chess set, for months.



He is ten years older than me.



He is thirty.

He tells me he loves the apartment and the neighborhood and is excited to have finally found a place cool enough for him to settle down.

He cannot pay rent.

He tells me things are getting serious between him and his girl.



I have never seen her.



He says that’s because she lives in Kenya; her visa application has been denied four times.

He speaks to her on the phone at 3am.

He says what’s great about their relationship is that they’re just so comfortable that they can talk about anything together. For example: he’ll ask, “Who’s the better Avenger, Iron-Man or Captain America?” And she’ll ask, “Will you sponsor my visa to America?”

He’s confident with his help, she’ll get in.



He applied to one job a month and a half ago, and says he’ll get that too, because of his “superior social skills.”



He does not ask permission to invite guests to the apartment. He is renting the family room out like an AirBnB to baggage claim staff from the airport.

He says there’s opportunity there, they have a long commute.

He says he got a new fulltime job.

It’s “a solid Monday to Wednesday gig.”



He just bought a green tuxedo for St. Patrick’s Day.



He cannot pay rent.

His Facebook cover photo reads:

“‘Idleness is a Fool’s Desire — Irish Proverb.’”

Noxious odors fill the hall from his room when he leaves his door ajar.

He has accumulated enough junk to appear in reality TV.

He has hoarded enough pop-culture memorabilia and pseudo-spiritual paraphernalia to be a character in an arthouse film by Harmony Korine.



There is so much trash in his room he does not have a square foot left to stand.

His mattress is covered in candy wrappers and bags of chips.

(How does a man remove bed sheet stains left by Flamin’ Hot Cheetos?)

He sleeps on a bed of garbage.

He tells the landlord he’s working on getting things cleaned up soon, he’s just been busy with his fulltime Monday to Wednesday gig, and is waiting on a local autism center to get back to him about sending over a community volunteer.

My thirty-year-old roommate has a fifteen-year-old with Aspergers come once a week to clean his room.

He says it gives the kid something to do.

For this service, he does not pay a thing.

The boy’s name is Tom.

He comes when my roommate is not home.

He is a very nice boy.

He has, astonishingly, zero acne.

Tom cleans everything in my roommate’s room.

Tom removes garbage. Tom folds laundry. Tom dusts. Tom vacuums. Tom mops. Tom sweeps. Tom sorts misplaced things.

Tom asks if he should return the snake’s terrarium cover after washing it.

I tell him, No.

My roommate’s snake has not eaten in three months.

It is weak.

My cat is not.

I feed her the best stuff.

I treat her fairly.

I respect her and she respects me.

We live harmoniously.

She brings me her prey to show loyalty.