I shared a residence, though we called it a dorm, with around 24 males and females who were all aged from around 18 - 24. They had the personal habits and social skills that you'd expect from that age group, ie: very few. There were signs up that had been posted by various (we called them anal) people who were fed up with certain behaviours. Things like, "wipe up after washing up". I guess someone wasn't happy with a dish drainer full of plates and cups. I would have thought that it was quite an achievement that the dishes were getting washed at all. Anyway that sign got vandalised and soon became "wipe up after having sex". Well we were at Uni.
I remember another person getting frustrated by others using the bath tub and leaving their pubic hairs behind once they'd pulled the plug. She went to great pains to design and make a very large paper pubic hair to place in the bath tub in the hopes that the offending person would get the hint. I was quite impressed with her effort given that she was an Ag student and not an Early Childhood student teacher. Of course the students doing the teaching courses were always accused of just doing finger painting all day, so perhaps they wouldn't have been up to the creative rigours of making a large paper pubic hair.
The most common notes in the dorm were the ones in the fridge. Food is very important to that age group and especially seeing as the meals provided by the accommodation start to become pretty uninspiring fairly quickly. The wondrous treats that could be stashed in the communal fridge for a late night study binge was something to be savoured and looked forward to with much anticipation. The only problem with that scenario was that the dorm was populated by a bunch of students with a tendency to come home late from a night of drinking and devour anything remotely edible in the fridge. No amount of notes, with ever increasing bold insults and threats would have any effect on a drunk's conscience. See food, eat food. Worry about consequences later.So this morning I found myself right back there in that dorm kitchen, peering into the fridge seeing the tempting little morsel, emblazoned with keep out signage, staring forlornly at me as it breathed it's possibly last gasps of life. With only one year til my eldest daughter is off to Uni herself, I felt a strange juxtaposition forming like a vortex in my kitchen as I imagined the future of me in a house full of boys writing notes to each other to leave their stuff alone. I fell to my knees in despair and clasped my arms over my head and yelled "Nooooooooo, I don't wanna live in a group house again". Me and three boys, with my beautiful daughter off into the wide wonderful world, I started to wonder if I could perhaps prevent her from leaving, or perhaps convince her to take me with her. Then I realised that there is a good chance she'll be living in a group house of her own and she will have all the wonderful fun of learning how to live with a bunch of young adults with questionable personal habits. I've been there, done that, and don't intend to do it again.
As I slowly recovered from my horrifying flash back, I remembered with extreme thankfulness and relief, that I wont be a female alone in a house of boys. I have my little Ellie, who will be turning two by the time Sarah is off to Uni. What a brilliant piece of foresight that was to have a baby right when the older ones were almost all grown up.
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