labellementeuse | (no subject)

Crazy-ass flatmate has hit an all-time low. Lately she's never around, spending all her time at her boyfriend's place - I mean all her time. She was home for two nights last week. The thing is, when she is home, the boyfriend was with her, and for the past two weeks they haven't done their dinner dishes - nor, obviously, breakfast and lunch. So yesterday we asked her to do Friday's dishes, since she hadn't done anything. Saturday night before dinner? Still not done, so we did about half (so we could, like, cook) including some of hers. Tonight when I got home? Yep, still not done, including her and her boyfriend's dinner dishes from the last two nights.

This was all getting a bit ridiculous and I was a bit pissed, so I texted her (with the blessings, or actually the blasphemings, of my other flatmates) "Any chance of you ever doing any dishes?" Admittedly sarky, but also kind of deserved considering she hasn't picked up a scrubbing brush for two weeks.

The sum of her response? "No."

... so we hid her rice and her cookbook (which, in our defense, were left on the kitchen floor. We don't have that much kitchen floorspace. We had to hide them...) and put her dishes on her bed. The ones we could leave, anyway, which was like, two pots, but we need her plates and things. God knows when she'll be home long enough to notice, but it made us feel better, along with a concerted bitch-session-and-major-kitchen-clean.