The big blow up happened the week after signing the new lease.
The entire school year, I was treated like their servant and I finally had it on Saturday, April 15. I had gone on strike that week; I didn't do the dishes, nor did I tidy up the apartment. I didn't add to the mess, but I didn't clean up their mess. By Tuesday of the beginning of that week, we were out of all eating utensils, plates, bowls, cups ... everything. The dishwasher was full, the sink was filled, and the counter top was loaded with dishes. One of my house mates who decided that she has eminent domain over the house, had placed her laundry basket filled with dirty clothes in the living room.
I thought that perhaps by Saturday afternoon, things will be cleaned up - I was too optimistic.
I came home Saturday night to an empty house, and my best friend ended up seeing the worst side of me. He saw me rage. I just started to yell to vent my anger. I vocalized my distaste for their careless, spoiled and self-centered attitude towards domestic maintenance. I cleaned the apartment and wrote a hostile message on the marker board in the kitchen.:
You're welcome! If you detect traces of cynicism and hostility in this message, then you are more or less on the right track. Just ask yourselves one question: How many times did I run the dishwasher this semester?
That night, they came home when I was asleep, and apparently the possessor of eminent domain had a "b!tch out", shattered the message board, and scattered it's remains by my door.
The next morning, my friend took one of the remaining pieces and wrote, "Why did you hurt me? I'm just the messenger." That little piece was placed by the toaster, but it was mysteriously discarded later that afternoon.
The following weekend, it was my other house mate's birthday party. I didn't feel like attending because I still wasn't on speaking terms with them and they invited their friends from high school to the party. Since I didn't go to their high school and there was tension between me and them, I casually left the apartment before the party started.
I came back to the house around 4 am, thinking that the party would have ended and it did. People were sleeping in the living room and the lights were out. Oh, I should point out that the possessor of eminent domain had courteously removed her laundry basket from the living and into the pantry so the guests would have space to sleep. The laundry basket remained in the pantry through the following week.
So I go into my room and I find a girl sleeping in my bed. Cigarette ashes and butts were all over my floor, somebody had written, "I will try not to be a bitch today, oh wait .. I can't" on my calendar", my answering machine was turned off, and somebody had helped themselves to my Ocean Spray Cranberry Juice, which sat on my shelf marked with my name. Before I left the apartment, the seal to the bottle was intact, but I found only 1/3 of the entire bottle remained when I came back.
A month later, I am still not on speaking terms with them, but that's insignificant compared to the fact that I no longer trust any of them on any level.
If you care to read an in depth character analysis of these people, go to the Sh!t List section of this journal.