As Winter Term begins, and certain peoples’ roommates go abroad, a select number of students go through an incredibly intense, high-risk high-reward process of attempting to protect the vacancies in their room. These strategies, if successful, result in a double being used as a single, colloquially known as a ‘dingle.’ Strategies vary; we asked some students about how they discourage their peers from drawing into their rooms.
Jade Deng ’27, who had a ‘dingle’ for Fall Term 2024, shares her strategy: “Throughout freshman year, at any LDC meal, I would loudly discuss how I wake up every two hours each night and spend a lot of time in my room. I also started a rumor that I sleepwalk.”
Deng isn’t the only one with this strategy; junior Sue Noyzey, who currently lives all alone in a spacious James double, told us, “I blasted music all last term every night. My neighbors hate me — and they told everyone on campus how inconsiderate I was. I have no friends left, and I damaged my eardrums, but I protected that precious extra closet space.”
Other students took a more hands-on approach, communicating directly with the prospective roommates they hoped to discourage. After receiving an email from someone coming back from OCS, Al Nocturn hastily replied, “I would be happy to be your roommate, but I need the lights out from 10 a.m.-10 p.m. every day. And then from 10 p.m.-10 a.m., I do need them on so I can burrow and hunt and such. Let me know if that works!” Nocturn successfully never received a reply. Other students took an even riskier move, acting preventatively; Bee Till ’27 and Tara N. Tula ’26 each posted Instagram stories proclaiming, “looking for a roommate to live in the middle of our Burton triple. MUST be open to having an insect farm on our floor space and putting down soil for aforementioned insects.” Till and Tula were less successful in their endeavor as, seeing their ad, Antea Tar ’25 quickly drew into the room. The fate of the bugs remains unclear.
Perhaps the most extreme and unique solution was implemented by a sophomore who has asked to remain anonymous out of fear of their new roommate. We met for Burton breakfast, where they claimed a ring of the rather salty rope sausage would protect us. “It all started,” they explained, “when I saw an Instagram ad over break for this rug. For some reason, it said, this rug is guaranteed to scare any unwanted presences away. And since my roommate is abroad, it just seemed like a sign. It was round; it was a good size for my room; it was white, with black stripes. I thought it would be kinda zebra-like, and I thought that @fireofhell was some cute trendy brand. Anyway, I came back on Saturday and opened the rug. And it wasn’t a zebra, really; it had a sort of star shape and some calligraphic symbols around the edge. It would cost $6.66 in shipping to return, so I just thought I’d embrace the spooky vibe. Anyway, it came with some helpful instructions — how to best set it up relative to your windows and furniture and whatever. Then, as I was reading the instruction pamphlet, some strange force came over me, and I heard myself chanting in Latin, which I don’t know. Also, I could smell smoke overnight, but nothing else seemed weird, so I forgot about it.”
After doing some research, the unnamed student discovered some troubling information about the Fire of Hell Rug Shop’s terms and conditions, including the possibility that this anonymous student may, in fact, have traded away their soul in the search for a cheap anti-roommate rug. And we learned that it was ultimately unsuccessful; they shared that “when I went home the next night, there was someone there. Not a physical presence, but a darkness that I could sense, a sort of figure enveloped in shadow. Like a roommate, really. I don’t mind that there’s someone there, but he’s always whispering in Latin and leaving dead mice on my desk. I don’t see him much, but then the other day, he borrowed my hat without asking me first, and I knew it was him because of the two horn-holes on the top. And when I asked him to Venmo me for a replacement, he just hissed, and faded away and emitted this horrible sulfuric smell. Just discourteous, really. Not at all what we put in our roommate agreement.”