Thanks to the satellite maps on Google, I can bring you a crystal clear, crisp photo of the duplex I live at in College Station. Make no mistake about it, I really do live right on top of a sewage treatment plant. There is nothing more invigorating than waking up on a fine Texas morning with a fresh cup of coffee in your hand and standing in your backyard, taking in the full, rich aroma of raw sewage. If you had any doubts about how much I love raw sewage, note how my duplex seems to be recessed further back off the street than the rest of the duplexes on April Bloom.
To quote my roommate Jon, "It's almost like living on a beach, except it smells a lot worse and there's no ocean nearby."
Truer words have never been spoken.
There must be some benefits to living next to the sewage treatment facility. For one, it can act as a type of "friend filter" because someone is going to have to like you a lot to put up with the stench. Furthermore, I think it can help to keep crime down, because I'm fairly certain that the naked black guy that likes to terrorize college girls by staring at them while they sleep does not like the scent of raw sewage. I could be wrong though, but I hope not. Also, if I were to stop showering and people started criticizing me for it, I could try blaming it on the sewage. I'm not exactly sure how that would work. I suppose that I could say that raw sewage is getting into my shower or something along that line. Then I could use all that free time that I have from not showering to learn how to make a better potato salad or write a better physics quiz. I just hope that I don't get really drunk one night and then try to break into that place. I'm not exactly sure what I would do once I got over the fence though. Maybe I could take some raw sewage home with me, put it in a nice little jar, and try to grow something in there. I don't know if raw sewage has any value on the black market, but I think it may be worth looking into.
The duplex that Jon and I share is pretty nice, for the price anyway. For awhile, whenever I came in through the front door, my first reaction upon viewing the living room was along the lines of, "Hey, I think we got robbed." Needless to say, we were a bit sparse on the furniture side of things. I didn't play any role in picking out or even purchasing the furniture that we share, but I'm fairly certain that even if I had done the interior decorating in here, the room would still look the same, right down to the shoddy, old couch straight from the Goodwill. We have a very stereotypical college male's place, for certain.
Of course, over on the other side of the duplex, where Jon's girlfriend and her friend live, the standard of living is much higher and the furniture is much nicer.
Regardless of the interior design work though, we all live amidst the same raw sewage. How's that for gender equality?
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