Essence of a house

I think i have come across a literal metaphor that personifies the share house.
A bit of furniture something like a wee platform or tiny tallish table was placed in the bathroom as part of the owner's SO moving in. Hooray i thought, a place to put stuff!! A place to dump the towel/clothes while i'm having a shower!! Marvellous. Much better than balancing everything on the toilet. There are no towel rails in the bathroom, or hooks. I have mentioned this actually but i think the bemused look i got in return was as if to say why would you hang a towel in the bathroom anyway. And what do i know, maybe other people don't. Maybe i'm the strange one, tho i sincerely doubt it.

Anyway i was pretty pleased for about 1 day & i used that little table & it was very good. So simple so relaxing so stressfree. Its crucial my clothes don't hit the floor cos they will get cat hairs on em & i will sneeze, eyes swell up, get grumpy, etc. Balancing them on the toilet is a skill but having a wee table was great.

The next day, there was a bloody pot plant on it.

Not a huge one, just about the size of a dinner plate. Just big enough to delete the useful space from the bathroom.
Like, can some bastard tell me, why there should be a pot plant in the bathroom anyway? Its only a small bathroom its not a greenhouse with vaulted glass ceilings or an outdoor style cabana bathroom, its a poky little terrace house bathroom with damp walls & peeling paint that leaks into downstairs thru a hole cut in the laundry ceiling into the 2nd bathtub down there thats full of old tins of paint & rollers etc.
Placing this pot plant actively removed the one useful bit of the entire bathroom thus transforming the entire room into a complete freakin joke. In one tiny fell swoop whipping away all the promised & longed for functionality. And so thoughtlessly cruel to give it & then take it away like that.
Do i sound unreasonable? I know i am :) I guess this is where you start to wish to call a house meeting & discuss it logically. But its no longer a democracy in the house anyways & i'm outta here soon.

So anyway, in closing, that example of assbackwardry is a living metaphor for the way the entire house disfunctions. I'm kinda glad i'm leaving soon, i like the people, though i think the preggers hormones in both of em are making it like 3's a crowd at the moment & i bet they can't wait for me & the other bloke (currently OS) to leave so they can nest down proper like.
But the only room where i can walk straight without sidling past piles of stuff, see where i'm going cos its not dark like in a catacomb, or put something down on a flat surface is in my own room, which is lovely & airy & light. My beautiful room simply rocks. In afternoon sun it is like joy & peace across the universe thank you very much. I'm almost never there at that time but i remember what it looks like.

Its the exact polar opposite of my room back at home though, to whence i shall return soon.