1. Phone Chargers
You make the climb up to your lofted bed, an 8-foot ascent up a precariously perched old wooden ladder — no easy feat in your exhausted state. Your phone is on its deathbed. You lay down and reach for the charger to plug in your phone so you can finally close your eyes. Your hands grasp at air. It’s gone. You can’t summon the energy to get up and find the stolen lifeline, so you curse your roommates and cry yourself to sleep as your phone breathes its last. RIP.
You go to The Huddle and spend a hundred flex points on snacks. Little do you know, you’ll be providing for the whole section. There are hungry mouths everywhere, and no amount of hoarding is going to stop those savages from finding your Pop-Tarts and Cheetos. The next day you come back from a long block of classes, ready to break open some snacks and chill on the couch. You open the door, and there they are, chowing down on the food you(r parents) worked hard to provide. You contemplate calling NDSP.
It’s Friday, and you’re making your weekly trip to Meijer. This time you’re going to stock up for a few weekends. You throw your suitcases in the back, buy as much booze as your meager campus job salary allows and drive back to campus. You haul the 75-pound bags up four floors and sneak past your RA’s room. Two hours later, your chill pregame turns into a dorm party. Aaaaaand there it goes.
You and your roommates’ morning routines don’t always intersect, so your creeping suspicions can’t be verified. But you’re pretty sure a bottle of body wash should last more than a week. Soon, you’re washing your entire body with shampoo. You wonder why you’re spending five minutes rolling up the toothpaste bottle when it was half-full two days ago. There’s a blond hair on your deodorant stick, and your hair is brown. What a way to start the morning.
5. Laundry Detergent
It’s laundry day. You bring your hamper to the basement and cram your clothes into the washer. Life’s too short to separate darks and whites. You sauce the machine with detergent and start it up. Here’s where you go wrong: you leave without your detergent. Thirty minutes later, every washer is full and your detergent is completely gone. Your faith in humanity greatly diminished, you resolve to never buy detergent again and instead become a parasite like the rest of the dorm. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, right?