When I first moved into my own apartment, a friend of mine said, "It's so great to come home and have everything be just the way you left it." Yes. Yes, it is.
I came home and the roommate had been in my room. How do I know? Because she had moved a bag that I had set outside of my room to inside my room, and she had taken my laundry from the dryer, folded it haphazardly, and placed it on my bed.
So now I have to install a lock on my bedroom door, in the house that I OWN, and figure out a way to fall asleep when I am so enraged I'm crying, because I have absolutely no personal space in the home that I own.
So basically, I hate everything about my life right now. Every part of it makes me cry: long-distance relationship. Loathsome job. A fucking roommate who invades my personal space on a daily basis.
Something will change very, very soon.