thepsytron

Shared houses can be the best experience, or the worst bummer imaginable. Course, the bad memories are the ones that stay with you the longest. Here's a warm memory of mine: One house I lived in, I would always find my towel soaking wet, on the bathroom floor, when I went for a shower. It's a common grumble, to be fair. In the end, I put a spot of Marmite slap dab in the middle of the towel. Marmite is a savoury spread you might put on toast. It looks remarkably like poo. It showed up real good, because the towel was light-blue. I folded the towel, so the skidmark couldn't be seen. Next time I came to use it, it was a trifle damp, but not wet. After that it was always dry. Just a matter of working out good survival strategies, I think. I would tell you what I did to thwart the Phantom Yoghurt Thief, but it would just give you nightmares. Edit: A typo and some italics. Oh, and an apostrophe. Damn, must have OCD kicking in.