"I can't live like this!"

"So what happened the other night?" Shorty asks me in the car on our way home from work. "All I heard was Twig saying 'I'm 34 years old and I can't live like this, I shouldn't have to live like this!' and 'I like her, I think she's intelligent, we talk, but I can't live like this!' Were you in there when she said all of that?"

Oh yeah, I was in there. Not only was I in there, but our Barracks NCO was as well. She had woken Twig up to talk about why a bunch of my stuff was dumped on my bunk. And Twig? Well, she woke up, but not exactly happy.

Twig can't deal with clutter and I'm not the neatest person on the face of the planet. I'm also not so good with deadlines, either. So not only did I leave clutter in the room for Twig to cringe over, I didn't clean it up in a specified amount of time. Okay, fine, I can accept that. But in no way shape or form am I responsible for her -- or anyone else's -- emotions. Including waking up and yelling at people.

Long story short, they're trying to move me to another quad. Which is sad because I really do like my roommates. But I can't, and I shouldn't, have to deal with someone that complains about dust bunnies under my bunk and then promptly gets upset about them.