(Probably) like you, I was one of those normal American kids* who grew up with her own room. I moved several times, but throughout I had my own space – good desks, comfortable beds, the option to sneeze as loudly as I wanted without someone across the room being all judgy about it. Air conditioning. Good carpet. A dog who would occasionally pretend she was interest in sleeping at the foot of my bed until I finally dozed off and all she wanted was to go hang out with my parents. (Cue dramatic dog whining at door). I was living the dream without even knowing it.

Imagine this little brat going to the door at night and whining. Every. Time. I'm. Home.

Imagine this little brat going to the door at night and whining. Every. Time. I’m. Home.

Before I came to college, the notion of sharing a shoebox-sized room with a stranger was compelling in a weird “oh that’s different and I’m growing up so let’s do new edgy things” sort of way. By the end of my first week of college, I longed for the old days of Personal Space and the option to sneeze as loudly as I wanted (also listen to whatever music I wanted whenever and watch The Bachelorette on full blast and other things that make me a menace to society).

An edgy shot of two models pretending to be roommates.

An edgy shot of two models pretending to be roommates. The one in the front set her alarm for too early in the morning. That girl is metaphorically me.

 

One dorm room, two apartments, and countless pathetic sneezes later, I have my own room again. My inherent inability to write one of these articles without a list is starting to set in… anddddd here comes the list!

The best things about having my own room again:

  1. There is no one to judge me for the types of shows I Netflix binge. No one but myself and whichever family member logs into Netflix next.
  2. My alarm clock only annoys me. There was nothing like the discomfort of knowing you were responsible for waking up The Other Sleep-deprived College Student in your room. Three years of apologizing for waking up. See ya.
  3. On that note, I can set as many alarms as I want! Two on the phone, one on the actual alarm clock. Snooze button eternally. Living the life.
  4. Aesthetic: it feels like a bit of an overstatement to call “clothes on the chair clothes on the floor a falling down poster on the wall a painting on a wall oh hey that’s nice!” an aesthetic, but you know what I GET TO SET THE TONE TO THIS ROOM.
  5. Candles. I’m probably not supposed to be burning candles. I hope my landlord doesn’t read this (hey Stewart! They’re safe, I promise!) I get to burn candles in scents that my nose appreciates. It’s cool. I can also light candles and listen to Enya as much as I want (I’ve done it once, it was weird).
  6. Hakuna matata. It means no worries? Does it Disney? I’m not gonna Google it. #edgy #fresh #daring Never again (until maybe next time I have a roommate please housing gods no) will I have to worry about leaving the lights on while my roommate needs to sleep or that my bed crumbs might draw vermin to our shared room or that my sniffling is getting annoying or that I Might Snore Sometimes? (Seasonal allergies, okay.)

 

This is not my room, obviously but you can imagine that Googling my way to it resulted in about half an hour of admiring bedroom design.

This is obviously not my room — but you can imagine that Googling my way to it resulted in about half an hour of admiring bedroom design.

And the worst:

  1. I have become convinced that every sound I hear from the outside world is someone coming in to abduct/kill me. Either that or someone telling me they’re gonna be my new roommate.

 

*Or, if you shared a room with someone, I guess I was the bratty kid you hated.

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