The Difficulty of Living with Others

During my first year of university I was given a nickname by new flatmates, which if not the first nickname I had received, was the first one I had been informed that I had be given. Taken out of context, this nickname sounded inappropriately cool for a person whose social life consists of minimal interaction with the supermarket self-checkout machine. In fact, it sounded so cool that one may have even suspected that I had coined it myself, like some sort of zany boss who insists his staff refer to him as “Ludichris” or “Mattman” or “J-Dawg”. But this was not the case.

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