Liquid hand soap.
One of those diffusers that plugs into the wall.
Air freshener, sometimes.
Something called Kaboom.
Dish towels laid out on the counter.
Paper plates, sometimes. The apartment has a dishwasher. She wonders about this too until her old bud explains that there were always lots of kids at his house and he’d have endless dishes piled up if he didn’t. Now there are always lots of kids at their house.
Not one of these things matters to her. They’re housemates anyway, not a couple, but he’s a dude and she’s living with him. These things are just different things. All the things are different.