I am writing you because you’ve been living in my shower drain for three days now and I think it’s time we had a talk. I hope this doesn’t come off as rude, (then again, I’m not the one invading other people’s bathrooms) but you are not really the kind of company I like to keep. Like, seriously, you’re the worst.
Granted, I could have worse flatmates. You don’t make any noise, you don’t steal food from my fridge, you don’t get upset when I play the same song on repeat for an hour an a half. But MAN are you a bathroom hog! I’ve had to wash my hair in the kitchen sink TWICE since you’ve “moved in.”
Maybe you moved into my bathroom because you don’t have any other friends (possibly because you ate them?). Maybe you, like me, think it’s getting just a tad too cold outside these days. Maybe you really just want to be my friend. I’d like to assume the best of you, but I’m really having trouble mentally getting past all eight of your legs (which I’ve counted several times because – let’s be honest – they’re a little obtrusive now, aren’t they?).