I promised you all that I'd include one or two posts of my own into my Moving Extravaganza series, so here's a moving story that's all mine (unfortunately).
Freshman year of college, I had a really terrible roommate whom we'll call Roommate From Hell. She smelled. She stole my clothes. She gave me lice (and I had really long hair. Long CURLY hair. It was even worse than you're probably imagining.) She broke my computer printer. She never cleaned anything, ever. She cooked food in my dishes and let the leftovers harden in them until they became a permanant decoration. She "couldn't sleep" unless she was listening to loud rock music. She regularly came back to our dorm room completely drunk in the middle of the night, tripped, ran into my bed, and then would tell me about her drunken exploits when I was trying to sleep at four in the morning. Needless to say, my first year of college was... interesting (adding to the drama was my breakup with the good ex, getting mono [which I also got from Roommate From Hell, who got mono and then accidentally drank from my drink several times and didn't tell me until after I'd used the same cup], and beginning to date the bad ex. It's a wonder I didn't drop out.)
During our second semester of college, Roommate From Hell just stopped going to classes. She literally did not go to a single class after the first week of the semester. She just got drunk every night and then slept all day until it was time to get drunk again. She ended up getting pregnant and dropping out of college the week before finals.
Frankly, I was glad that she dropped out. Her leaving before finals week meant that I could actually get some sleep without being woken up when she drunkenly ran into my bed at 4 am. What sucked was the cleanup our dorm room needed after she moved out. Obviously, I was aware of the fact that we basically lived in a trash heap. However, I was unaware of the extent of the mess until it was time for me to move out. I'm an extremely disorganized person by nature, but my awful roommate made me look like Martha Stewart by comparison. She once left a slice of pizza face down on the carpet for a week before I discovered it and threw it away. She did not do a single load of laundry all year. She never once changed her sheets (when she got lice and gave it to me, I told her she had to wash her sheets and clothes, and she claimed not to know how. When I offered to teach her, she never showed up for the "lesson." I had to strip her bed and wash her sheets for her. And rather than going to the trouble of ever putting her pillowcases back on after I had washed them, she used New Kids on the Block t-shirts as pillowcases for the rest of the year). And when she moved out, she didn't bother to clean up anything. When I left for class one day, she was packing her bags. When I came back, she was gone, along with her clothes and personal belongings. Her mess remained.
On the last day of the semester, my parents came to help me move out of my dorm, and that was when we realized the full extent of the disaster my roommate had left behind. When we went to un-bunk the beds and move them back to their original position, we discovered hundreds and hundreds of popcorn kernels under the bed. Since I'm not a big popcorn fan and hadn't made a single bag all year, we knew they were all from her. With the amount of kernels under the bed, I wouldn't have been at all surprised to learn that she was starting a corn farm under there. When we checked to make sure all of her dresser drawers were empty, we discovered that she had inexplicably filled an entire drawer with an unidentifiable white powder. Baby powder? Cocaine? Flea powder? We had no idea, but whatever it was, the drawer was completely filled with it. When I tried to pick up a copy of Cosmo magazine off of the floor under her desk, I discovered that she had spilled soda on top of it and that the cover photo had completely transferred to the floor and was being held on with a sticky shellac that no amount of bleach or scrubbing could remove. My parents and I spent hours cleaning the 12x12 room, and it was still basically filthy when we left.
A few weeks after I moved out of the dorm, I got a notice in the mail telling me that I had to pay half of the $100 fine we'd been assessed because the room had to be cleaned thorougly after we left. I honestly can't remember whether or not I paid the fine, but I can remember being really, really ticked off about it.
The final blow from my roommate didn't come until the beginning of my sophomore year. I was sharing a dorm room with a different girl (she was a neat freak - I had learned my lesson), and as we were moving in, another girl who lived in our building stopped by. I'd never been crazy about this girl, partly because she had been good friends with Roommate From Hell. I liked her even less after she walked into the room I was sharing with Clean Roommate and said, "I'm kind of surprised that Clean Roommate asked you to live with her. Roommate From Hell said living with you annoyed her because you're really messy."
All I can say is that Roommate From Hell was lucky she was pregnant when I found out she'd said that, or I might've gone to her house and punched her.