Mice and all, I like my place

Lindsay Sainlar

There’s something nice about having my own place, it’s quite freeing. There aren’t desk clerks who check my backpack for beer or tell me to turn my music down past midnight. For two years I lived in a dorm and I came to hate the community showers and the speckled marble floor and having to check boys in and out.

Now I have the comfort of my own home. My room is bigger than any of those inhumane closets that students are forced to share with complete strangers sometimes. I can come and go as I please, without having to show an ID. I don’t have to remember to hide six-prong plugs and empty liquor bottles on room check days.

Granted, my apartment isn’t the top of the line. The first month I lived there the people who live upstairs threw some wild dancing-themed, photojournalism party and the next thing I knew, our toilet started overflowing and there was some strange brown chunky liquid coming out of the bathtub faucet. Apparently the sewage backed up and our landlord took his sweet time getting the problem reversed. And it happened again two weeks later. I thought about packing my bags, but our location is to die for. Every morning I enjoy my bowl of Smart Start and I watch all the lemmings walk to class and dodge the traffic.

We’ve had mice too. Four of them – all of which we had to kill with inhumane mousetraps. It was quite traumatic waking up to the snapping sound of a mouse trap and having to find a boy to clean up the dead varmint.

And our warm water in the shower doesn’t last past the shampoo application, but it’s a cute apartment. It has a seventies feel to it, which matches the laidback personalities of my roommates.

Living in the dorms wasn’t too tragic. It was an experience that I think everyone should have. It helps you appreciate all the inadequacies of the poor housing in Bowling Green.

The only thing I really didn’t like about living in the dorms were all the disciplinary repercussions. I remember getting caught drinking alcohol in Bates-Runner before it had air-conditioning and boys and intelligent freshmen. It was the worst week of my life. My hall director made me cry and threatened to kick us out of Western, a threat I never took all too serious, but which definitely instilled a fear of getting caught again.

The only things I miss about living in a dorm are the free cable television, the water pressure in the showers and all the fantastic people.

I took the free cable for granted. My roommates and I have opted to refrain from cable in our apartment because we thought it would be silly to pay for constant exposure to reality television and bad programming when we could spend the money on making fantastic Thai dinners instead.

And the water pressure was amazing. The first time I took a shower I felt like the water was ripping the skin off my back, but I slowly started to look forward to carrying my shower caddy down the hall and wearing Old Navy flip flops to stand under the massaging water pressure that probably came pelting out at 40 m.p.h.

Not to mention all the wonderful friends I made walking out of my room everyday. I met people who tried to teach me the C-walk and downloaded every Tweet and Ying Yang Twins song imaginable on my computer. I played Family Feud on the Super Nintendo more than I should have and tried desperately to befriend this girl who supposedly was the sister of some Nappy Roots member. Those aren’t people who walk into my life anymore now and I miss that.

The dorms were fun, but I’ll never go back. Feces may come out of my faucet and my kitchen might be inhabited by spirits who knock things off the counter, but it’s my home and I wouldn’t give it up for unlimited visits to Topper Caf breakfast on Sundays.

P. S. The last episode of Sex and the City was life-changing.

Holla at a sister at [email protected]

This column does not reflect the opinion of the Herald, Western or the administration.