Housing shortage! Not enough beds for everyone on campus! Later draw groups must split up to accommodate everyone!
It's room draw time, when the stakes are high, and the losses ever so real. Get a good draw time and get a beautiful room with a sparkling bay window that provides a breathtaking view of Princeton's finest architectural beauties illuminated in the naturally fantastic light of the sunrise and sunset. In addition, that dream room is only minutes away from Dillon, Frist and every single one of your classes so you no longer need to ever calculate travel time.
Get a bad draw time, however, and you're stuck living in the Princeton ghetto, where the architecture can barely live up to that of Butler College. You're so far away from everyone and everything, you might as well ask for a room in Forbes.
This year, however, I'm not the slightest bit troubled about draw time. Living in "the Butt" guarantees me and everyone else a room with the infamous waffle ceiling and brick walls in varying shades of brown — nothing more and nothing less. Instead, I'm actually nervous about my roommates next year.
I'm not at all concerned about the actual persons or personalities of my roommates since I know they're nice (none of them has ever yelled at me for eating their food) and am friends with them. I'm more apprehensive about what it'll be like actually living with them.
Most of my roomie concerns stem from this year's living situation, which can be completely explained by simply looking at our eight-person suite bathroom. While having your own bathroom is somewhat of a perk, there's the humongous downside of having to clean it yourself.
Although I cleaned the bathroom at home, cleaning the bathroom here at college isn't quite as enjoyable. For one thing, you're forced to collect clumps of wet, slimy hair from the shower drain that clearly doesn't belong to you. However thoroughly you scrub the tiled counters and polish the mirrors with Windex, the bathroom somehow automatically gets covered with a thin film of watery toothpaste mixed with strands of hair, curly and straight, brown and blonde, by the next day. Cleaning the bathroom is rather depressing.
In fact, it's even more miserable when no one cleans. An eight-girl's bathroom left unclean for a week is already a fairly dismal sight. Imagine one left unclean for three.
I honestly enjoy living with my roommates. We've all shared our personal experiences with one another and had a few memorable ones ourselves, such as when four squirrels opened our window screen to wreak havoc and scatter filth in the common room. We regularly complain about our social lives or lack of. But when it comes to the bathroom situation, not a single one of us can look at each other straight in the eye and say, "It's your turn to clean the bathroom this week. Hop to it, buddy."
One roommate has resorted to writing messages on her dry erase board that hangs outside her door, "Whose turn is it to clean the bathroom this week? It's GROSS!"
The rest of us are less brave and more passive-aggressive, so we simply make snide comments about the condition of the bathroom when the assigned cleaner of the week isn't around. Although the bathroom remains filthy for the week, we've still managed not to hurt anyone's feelings.
And there, inherently lies the problem. None of us roomies is willing to take a stand.

We probably won't be given our own bathroom next year, but I am still worried about how to deal with similar and more confrontational situations. You can always set rules and guidelines, but they will be bent and eventually broken by all parties. You can talk behind people's backs, but that never brings about any good. What you need is simply guts: the guts to ask your roommates to fulfill their end of the bargain without feeling like you're compromising your friendship. Those guts are what make friends great friends and roomies the best roomies ever.
Anna Huang is a freshman from Westlake, Ohio. You can reach her at ajh@princeton.edu.