Foxxie IV

Uoh, am I late or what. Anyway, if you want to understand what I'm about to tell, you may want to read Foxxie I, Foxxie II and Foxxie III first. And I promise this is the last of the story:



From the moment I am asked to leave I completely stop talking to Foxxie and Muggie. Whenever they dare say something to me I reply with the minimum amount of words possible and the few times I am forced to communicate with them I keep it as short and dry as I can. The only thing I tolerate is saying hi in the corridor.

Days go by while I desperately look for a new place, and Foxxie starts getting aggressive. She stops saying hello and she never talks to me, even when it is necessary. Instead, she leaves notes. She doesn't even address me in them, she just writes impersonal messages instead. One day in which I leave a tupperware of soup open in the countertop so it cools down, I leave the kitchen and when I get back the tupperware is closed and there is a note next to it:

Hi, can we please keep food covered so we don't get rodents in the house. Thanks!

Oh wow. I giggle. I take a picture and open whatsapp.

Me – xD They are not talking to me anymore, they now leave notes -I attach the pic-. Because knocking on my door and actually speaking is too mainstream, I guess.

Daisy – Are you serious??? Talk about passive-aggressive!

I restrain myself from going to see Foxxie to tell her she is an idiot, because I still don't have a new flat and the situation can get quite unpleasant.

But couple of days later...

Please wipe benchtop and stove after use.

This requires an explanation so you can understand why this particular request makes my blood boil.

My two flatmates are not particularly dirty, OK? The house is acceptably clean. Nevertheless, there are a couple of details that clearly state they aren't exactly in love with cleaning either. The first one is this glass:

That glass is there always. Eternal. Daytime:

Nighttime:

The rest of the dishes get done, the glass doesn't. The glass belongs in the sink:

I know it's not always the same glass because it shapeshifts from time to time. And because I have tried to make it disappear in a respectable amount of occasions. I wash it, the next day the glass is in the sink again. I put it in the dishwasher, next day glass in the sink. After a bunch of attempts, obviously, I accept the harsh reality and realise the glass is going to sit there forever.

The other detail is, and that's why the note pisses me off so much, that the countertop is permanently covered in breadcrumbs. The rest of the place looks acceptable, but the breadcrumbs are bloody everywhere. This has been like this since the day I arrived and I haven't said anything about it because the general tidiness was alright and I thought it would be sensible not to complain about every single detail that bothered me. So, after a few weeks of seeing the benchtop covered in bread bits one day after another, this little skunk has the guts to come leaving damning notes assuming I am the one to blame for the daily bread apocalypse.

Hence my grabbing the piece of paper and entering the living room to have which will be my fascinating and last conversation ever with her.

Me - Foxxie. Is this supposed to be for me? -I wave the sheet in the air-.

Foxxie - It is for whoever is not cleaning the benchtop.

Me - Aham. Not me.

Foxxie - Alright.

You can build a true friendship with foundations like this deep exchange of ideas.

With every day that goes by Foxxie's behaviour gets worse. Whenever I'm around she slams doors and makes all the noise she is capable of, hitting dishes and smashing drawers as much as she can. The situation gets tense because I feel that ending up hitting each other is getting more and more likely, which would probably not be too good for me since I am very thin and I believe pretty easily beaten up.

The one time I don't see Foxxie spitting fire is one day in which Muggie brings home a new plant. They are so happy, admiring the shiny green leaves.

48 hours after that, as you can imagine, the plant is in vegetable paradise and adding up to the very depressing pots cemetery we have in the kitchen. I seriously hope these girls won't ever want a dog. Or kids.

And like this, surrounded by slammed doors and dead plants I find a room in a neighbourhood nearby, slightly more expensive than Daisy's but a little bigger, in a better house and in a main road.

I don't even say goodbye. Foxxie and Muggie know when I'm gone because they see me emptying my kitchen cupboards, but I don't tell them I'm leaving, nor I, fortunately, see them ever again.

A few weeks after, I meet up with Daisy to have dinner and give her back her keys. She tells me that our two favourite mistresses are making her pay the bills.

The thought of paying them a visit carrying a flamethrower crosses my mind.

Me - WHAT!? So they don't have a third flatmate because they just don't feel like it and yet they are cheeky enough to tell you to pay the bills!?? And why do you pay? That's not even in the contract!!

Let's take a minute to think about this, because just wow: there are expenses that are directly proportional to the number of tenants in a house, like the electricity. In that flat there are only two people consuming electricity, yet Daisy has to pay for the third part of it.

Muggie is bigger than me, but I may be able to break Foxxie's legs.

Daisy - I pay because I just don't have the energy to fight this anymore. For that kind of money it's just not worth it. I told my parents about this on the phone and they told me to pay for the two months I have left and let it go. And I think they are right.

Damn it. They're probably right. It sucks to see your dignity destroyed like this, but sometimes you have to choose between your pride and your mental health.

Me - I hate to say it, but they might actually be right.

Some weeks later I get an email; apparently Foxxie has managed to throw one last tantrum before moving out. Not only was I kicked out and Daisy had to pay a fortune just because, but here the ladies want Daisy to go help them cleaning the flat. This is (partially) Daisy's email:

[...] I was actually going to write to you anyway to let you know the girls finally moved out of the house last weekend woohoo! We received the property report and so far (touch wood!) it looks like it should be ok to get my deposit back...phew! But Foxxie managed to cause one last drama before she moved out of course....she emailed the week before they moved out to tell me I had to go there and help them clean the house!!!! I had steam coming out of my ears when I read that email! I told them I was away that weekend (I wasn't) and asked very nicely if they could just give the room a quick dusting (I knew you had left it in a really good state, so at most it would've needed a light dusting). This is what she wrote back to me:

Just to say, as we did not did not ALL contribute to the final cleaning and leaving the flat (vacating at the end of tenancy) in a presentable way as per the inventory report (and tenancy agreement), which we were required to clean at the end of our tenancy regardless of any circumstance, (we are ALL liable for) two of the three of us clearly attempted to, unfortunately areas of the flat have not been left in a cleanly manner, again, as per the inventory report... so, I guess it will be up to the landlord as to how he/she views the state of the property and may think it requires additional cleaning. 

So many parenthesis, so pompous, for God's sake. Not only is this girl evil, she also has the writing skills of a shrimp.

Anyways, this is what Daisy emailed back:

Considering when you moved in I wasn't happy with the state of your room from the previous tenants that I spent hours and hours scrubbing your room and ensuite from top to bottom to make sure it was in a presentable state when you moved in and considering I cleaned the fridge on a regular basis when I was living in the flat and considering my mum scrubbed the oven when she was over and I didn't use it any time after that (except for the occasional lasagne which didn't make any mess) and considering I looked after all the bills when I was living there and considering I looked after all the property maintenance when I was living there and considering I have contributed payment to the carpets being cleaned and considering I can use CAPITAL LETTERS in a sentence too, then I think cleaning the house on this one occasion and wiping down a few extra surfaces in my room to leave it in a presentable way as per the inventory report should not really be an issue.

Ah! Don't you love it when nice people run out of patience? I certainly do.

Unsurprisingly enough, Foxxie never replied, and honestly I don't blame her. I kind of picture Daisy typing the email with a rifle on the table.

And well, that's it. I moved to a better flat, Daisy got her deposit back and we even keep in touch. I don't think Foxxie and Muggie are living under a bridge, but hey, you can't have it all in life, right?