One of the worst things about high school was the mess left on the tables in the cafeteria by students who were “too cool” to throw out their garbage. It is something I still can’t comprehend.
How do you just get up from a table, leave your pop can, paper plate, and bits of pizza crust scattered everywhere? How do you then walk out the door, knowing other people saw what you just did?
There was a garbage bin at the end of every long set of tables. Why was it so hard? Why did it feel like they “lost” whenever a teacher stopped them from escaping, and told them to go back and throw their garbage out?
Please, someone explain this to me.
Oh, and you can insert a rant <here> about how this behaviour is only exacerbated during a global pandemic. It should’ve been no surprise that there would be a large group of people not following simple instructions that benefit the well-being of others.
I remember one summer when I was working at camp, I had returned to the main room – where everyone kept their backpack and had snack – to pick something up and there was juice all over the floor from a juice box.
Without hesitation, I went to get paper towels to clean it up. I’m not a fan of the “put a paper towel on the spill and move it around with your foot” technique. I think it’s useless. Now, if you can’t bend over – fine. Have at it.
But me, I get in there with a wad of paper towels on my hands.
It should be noted that paper towels in school settings are ineffective unless you use half the roll. They just multiply the mess.
Sorcerers, all of them.
Now, it wasn’t my mess – it wasn’t even near my area – but that didn’t matter. Kids ran in that room all the time. If I left the spill and acted like I didn’t see it, I can guarantee you someone would’ve run in there and fallen.
As I was cleaning it up, someone walked by and asked what I was doing. When I explained the situation, they said, “Why don’t you just call the janitor?”
The thought never crossed my mind, honestly.
I saw a juice spill, I cleaned it up. It’s not like I stumbled upon a flood. Although, the paper towels were doing their best “liquid multiplication magic” at the time.
But I guess that just shows how we all react differently to certain situations.
And don’t get me wrong, this isn’t me trying to be all self-righteous. I’m just telling a story.
There’s a picture of me vacuuming the house at the age of 2. My mom recently told me that most babies are scared of the sound of a vacuum.
I’ve stared at that picture a million times and not once did I ever consider what it must’ve sounded like to a 2-year-old.
Maybe because I was smiling in the photo? I don’t know.
As an adult – am I an adult? – dust is my enemy. Mainly because I hate how it reappears right after you get rid of it. What are you? A boomerang?
Go play outside, dust. Always so stuck to the computer. Literally. That is where this tirade against dust comes from. Every day when I open my laptop for the first time, there is magically new dust on the screen and keyboard.
Why is it there? Stop getting stuck in the tiny speaker holes!
Scram. Beat it. Pick on someone your own size.
In university, my room was connected to my roommate’s room via a bathroom. Whenever people came over and saw our bathroom, they asked us how two guys could have a bathroom so clean.
We didn’t understand the question. And it’s not like we were actively cleaning it. There was no schedule. We just weren’t leaving a mess.
It felt like when someone compliments you on a nice shirt, and your reply is, “Pfft, this old thing? Nothing special.”
They wanted to know why our countertop wasn’t covered with all of our belongings. Still didn’t understand what they meant. We had soap. What else did we need?
“You guys keep your toothbrushes in your own room?”
Yeah, don’t you?
Girls were baffled by this. And then I saw their bathroom. You couldn’t even tell there was a counter – every square inch of it was covered.
They would leave passive-aggressive post-it notes on the mirror, telling their roommate it was their “turn” to clean. Or it was their “turn” to empty the garbage bin out in the big bin at the end of the hall.
My roommate and I found these methods to be both, hilarious and unfathomable.
Because if we made a mess, we cleaned it. If the garbage bin was too full, we emptied it. If the toilet roll was finished, we replaced it.
There was never a passive-aggressive back-and-forth, waiting for the other person to do something. We never went whispering to someone else, “I’ve cleaned the bathroom two weeks in a row.”
To us, it was just an unspoken understanding of, “Oh, we’re sharing a bathroom with another person. Let’s be cognizant of that and try not to make it awful for them.”
I lived in residence for four years. People always told me about how they didn’t get along with their “bathroommate” and 90% of the time, it had to do with cleaning the bathroom.
I’m not willing to believe that people are messy/have no regard for others because they weren’t taught to clean up after themselves when they were a kid. Every Kindergarten class had a “Clean Up” song, don’t give me that excuse.
We’re all wired differently, I guess.
Some people make a mess and clean it up, and some people take off and let someone else deal with it.
Oh, I almost forgot.
What’s the deal with throwing clothes on the floor? I used to think this was something exclusively done in television shows, as an over-exaggeration, to push the point that a character was untidy.
But then I realized it’s a real life thing.
Alright, now we can end this post.
What you do in your own house is your own business
and cannot be disputed without the express written consent of Major League Baseball.
Just had to get that disclaimer in there before I read the comments.
Are you messy? Why are people messy? Feel free to share your stories of anything “mess” related, whether it was at school, with roommates, family members, in public, or elsewhere. I want to hear it!