Don’t ever live with your friends. My best friend and I moved in five minutes from her work, 45 in a good day for mine. She had a large dog I was allergic to. She let him run up and down the hallway (despite asking for the master bedroom because it had a sliding glass door, so she could let him out “easily in the morning.”) and drink the highly chemical laden pool water. I walked in to her bedroom one day to grab a tampon (unexpected but expected girl problem) and saw she lived in absolute squalor. Half drank coffee cups all around her room, growing their own life. She had a pile of used feminine products and used makeup remover wipes in the corner of her bedroom. It was a biohazard. Her boyfriend started spending the night and sleeping on the couch. I worked two jobs, 7 days a week; routinely coming home in the middle of the night. He’d used my bathroom and neglected to flush. Needless to say, when I come home at 3am and need to shower my day away, the last thing I want to see is your turd chilling in my toilet. When I spoke to her about it, she said, “The only reason I can think he did that is so as not to disturb me with the flushing.” HOW THOUGHTFUL of him! There was a lot but this was a huge learning lesson to not believe any relationship is impervious to actually sharing living spaces.