I'm fairly certain I'm a terrible room mate, which is why I didn't have one up until today. Well, that's only half the reason. The other half is that I typically find everyone else under the sun a terrible room mate as well, owing to my raging obsession with tidiness and "personal space." I'm pretty charming that way. My new room mate is actually my ex-sister-in-law, which is a little tricky to explain, but trust me, it should work!
She's 18 and wanted to move to the city. Three cheers for her, for having some initiative and a sense of adventure. It probably helps that her sister and I already lived here, though.
When I live by myself, I get to determine, quite arbitrarily, how organized or clean the apartment should be. By most people's standards that usually shifts between "fairly tidy" and "museum-like." Throwing someone else in the mix, who I know already is not interested in the great aesthetic value to be had from a nicely compartmentalized medicine cabinet, is just asking for trouble. Hopefully I learn something from all this.
Aside from tidiness, there are also the issues of privacy, money, appropriate noise levels, shared spaces, and all sorts of other sticky traps. These are all terribly important to me, as my "nest" is perhaps the single greatest determining factor in my general level of happiness or anxiety on any given day. I have enjoyed the hell out of living alone, and would like to do it again someday, but I literally can't afford it anymore. So here goes nothing.