Ode to Albert

After two years in our Albert street home, my roommates and I have decided to move. As much as this house means to us, meaning can no longer trump the fact that it is an old, ant-infested, dirty pile of sticks. This home has been standing in Waterloo since the dawn of time, or at least since before the invasion of university students. It is in desperate need of a make-over. Or a bulldozing.

Don't be fooled. It looks rather pretty from the outside. Especially in the summer when all the trees are in bloom and the flowers poke their heads through the dirt. The inside is dirty, smelly and old. It's not the kind of dirt you can clean, either. It's the kind that has built up over years of being lived in by students who are too lazy to do any serious housework. It has been temporary residence to more students than I dare to estimate, which has done a number on the sanitation factor. And the smell. Sometimes the house smells for no apparent reason, and we can only attribute it to the fact that the house takes a shit sometimes. We've learned to live with it.

My roommates and I have also done a number on the sanitation factor, I admit. Since we've decided to move, all hope has been lost. Usually we're ok for keeping it tidy, but the kitchen has become a cesspool of nasty over the past couple of months. It hasn't been updated since the 70s at least so not only is it piled high with dishes, it is horribly out of date. The countertops are a lovely faux-wood that has been been worn down in some spots from aging, and the floor has developed a natural brown-tinge that makes it look constantly unclean. In reality, the floor used to be cream-coloured but has faded brown over the years, so even if we tried to scrub it it wouldn't return to its original colour.

Even though the house is disgusting, we've loved our time here. Our place has been host to many, many parties. It is right in the middle of everything, and a short walk away from most of the bars in Waterloo so people usually congregate here before going out. Most weekends there is at least one of our friends crashing on our couch or puking in our toilet. The house is always happy to oblige. It is also so close to the school that even if I wake up ten minutes before class, I can still make it across campus without breaking a sweat. This has proven to be a very important factor in my love for this place.

And my room. Fortunately since the house is already a disaster the landlord let us paint. I indulged in a passionate, plum purple. My room was labeled the sex room because of the low lighting and the four-poster. Every good party always ended with a pole dance on my bed. This bed is also known among some as "the most comfortable bed ever." It really is, I can't explain it.

We've lost a couple roommates, gained new ones. A total of nine different people have called this place home over the past two years and four of us have stayed strong throughout. The original four plus one are moving into our new place together. A sparkling, brand-spanking new apartment just three houses down. Dishwasher included, which will hopefully get us out of the dish slump we've fallen into lately. I can't wait to move, but I know I'll miss it. There are memories attached to this house that will immortalize it for us as "that old house we used to rent together."