A few hours ago, timcliff asked "What is your worst roommate experience?"

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*New Girl from Elizabeth Mehiwether Pictures and 20th Century Fox Television*</center><br>

I sat and thought. I have had nine different roommates (not counting my wife... or kids for that matter). I racked my brain to think of the worst roommate story ever. Then it hit me! If I couldn't think of my worst roommate... then **I** must be the worst roommate!

Luckily, I have had the pleasure of living with a bunch of really great guys.  Therefore, to be the *worst* really doesn't make me that bad. I didn't skip out on the rent, steal, or destroy... much. I didn't disrespect any of their girlfriends or cut my toenails at the kitchen table while they were eating. However, I was the biggest slob that any of them will ever know. In my heart, I know I still am (but my kids are watching now so I have to pretend). 

Did you ever have a roommate who would never wash his dishes? Instead of washing a large batch of dishes, he would use all of his clean ones and pile them in the sink. When it came time to eat, he would   just take the immediately necessary ones off the top of the messy mound and wash only what was essential for that one meal. Yep that was me. I was *that* guy. 

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*This is nothing! I could have piled 17 more dishes on top of this. 
(From funthingstodowhileyourewaiting)*</center><br>

I have no idea why I thought this system was any more efficient than what normal people do, but I was a busy guy. I had to ditch class, play cards, hang out, and watch Saved by the Bell or Baywatch reruns all day. There was no DVR to allow me to pause so I could wash the dishes. I needed to wash them during a commercial so I could eat my bag of ramen noodles mixed with canned tuna (my college eating habits is a story all its own) while enjoying Zack Morris' latest antics. If you are doing the math, yes I was way too old to be watching Saved by the Bell in college. I mainly watched to make fun of it... mainly.

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*Saved by the Bell from Peter Engel Productions and NBC Productions*</center><br>

The pinnacle of my disgusting habit happened during my last year in Champaign, Il. My roommate had a pet ball python (relax, that is not a euphemism for anything). From time to time, the snake would escape it's tank and we would have to look for it. The worst was when it would slither into the inside of the couch. Sometimes it could take nearly an hour to get unwrapped from inside there. 

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*pixaby*</center><br>

One day, unbeknownst to me, Zerbie (I think that was its name) had escaped. Zerbie roamed free as I sat in front of the television eating my mashed potatoes and tuna dinner (I ate a lot of tuna). After I had finished (and a commercial began) I got up to place the freshly used dish on top of the two-foot tall pile of filthy dishes.  Just as I carefully placed the dish on the peak of the pile, making sure not to topple it, the snake lunged out at me. I screamed like a tiny little girl, dropped my plate, and destroyed the pile. In the frenzy, I was so startled that I leapt backwards and crushed my head on a cabinet door... which I had probably left open because I'm a slob. You would have thought I would have learned my lesson, but f course I did not.

I honestly think that the only thing that "cured" me from this disgusting habit was the birth of my children. Wait, that wasn't it. I'm pretty sure I remember stacks of baby bottles and sippy cups in my sink (but to be honest their infancy is kind of a blur). I finally stopped when my kids were old enough to realize what was going on. I had to role model for them. I couldn't be an obvious slob anymore... but I could still be a stealthy one! I'll try and write more on that later. My poor wife...