Journey To The Center Of My Bathroom

This is the way my roommates and I have apparently chosen to live.

I share a bathroom with 3 dudes. 2 of them sleep exclusively at their Girlfriends' apartments, returning home only to generate more filth. I've been trying to work up the resolve to clean but my bathroom suffers from what I'm going to call Pacific Rim Syndrome. Bear with me, this is an incredible metaphor: The bathroom is Earth, and the proliferation of filth within the bathroom is the Kaiju. The Kaiju assaulting my bathroom grow more powerful with each new incarnation, and no matter how much money I throw into cleaning products I am consistently overwhelmed by the tide of this awesome metaphor. Let's take a journey to the center of my bathroom and I'll show you what I mean.

Smallest Possible Amount Of Light

The bathroom is in constant twilight due to the fact that this little guy is our only functioning bulb. I don't know where to find more bulbs that shape but I'm sure all I would have to do is enter a hardware store. I believe the simplicity of this task is the main reason is hasn't been done. Each roommate is pissed at the others for ignoring something so easy to fix, and decides if the others aren't going to replace the light bulbs it shouldn't be his responsibility either. Sooner or later though, that bulb is going to die and it'll kick off a week of shits and showers made possible only by iPhone's flashlight function. Again, we chose this. This is what we wanted.

Drano-Immune Sink

The sink is like Skynet. It has goals and fears, it grows and learns, and recently the sink achieved its ultimate endgame of becoming completely unusable. Last year, half a bottle of Drano unclogged the sink for a week. Six months ago we had to start using a full bottle. At this point the sink drinks Drano just because it likes the taste. I don't know what happened, the sink must have been taking incrementally increasing amounts of Drano when we weren't looking to build up a tolerance. Now whatever combination of liquid, soap, and dirt ends up in the sink swirls around long enough that it cakes onto the sides. Those scratches in the gunk are from my fingernail. Just look at that fucking drain. It's like its laughing at me.

Big Gross Bottle Of Shampoo With No Owner

Every time I clean the shower I ask each of my roommates if they know whose giant disgusting bottle of Pantene Pro-V this is and all of them claim to have no idea, but they still caution me against throwing it away just in case. Are my roommates gaslighting me? IT HAS TO BELONG TO SOMEONE. IT DIDN'T JUST APPEAR. DID IT JUST APPEAR? THAT'S EVEN WORSE. IS THIS BOTTLE HAUNTED? IS IT THE ANNABELLE OF HAIR PRODUCTS? DID YOU GUYS SEE THAT MOVIE? ME NEITHER.

NO MAN'S LAND

The corner between the toilet and sink has gone so long without being cleaned that legends have been passed down warning travelers away from the terrible abyss. The local townsfolk are afraid to speak its name, referring to it only as "that place." A few months ago we lost a plastic cup in there because I brought my roommate some water while he was throwing up. Also I have no idea what it says on that piece of paper and I probably never will. That piece of paper has the cure for every major disease and a lost Joyce manuscript written on it. Too bad.

And There You Have It

Yes, these are the sights that greet all those foolish enough to venture into my bathroom. As I write my hands tremble in anticipation of the ghoulish work that lies ahead. I must defeat this level 4 Kaiju if it takes all I've got, despite my knowledge that the future holds nothing but a level 5 Kaiju if I succeed. Wish me luck. If this is the last you hear from me…don't come looking.