One was a woman in the Navy going through a divorce. She’d come home each night with a different guy, loudly hook up, and then order delivery. She never cleaned anything in my time there, and I only saw her out of her room a few times.

The other was a guy with terminal brain cancer and anger management issues. He would wail loudly most nights and throw his Xbox controller against our shared wall. He had a dog whom he stopped feeding. I had to take care of his dog for him.

I stopped taking out the trash as an experiment. They began just putting their trash on the floor of the kitchen. Madness.

But then again, I always realize how far civilization has come when I enter a public toilet: not far at all.

I look around my messy apartment and realize I'd also be a not-great flatmate.