Maybe

it is not the fact that I cannot afford to buy anymore kitchen items, which is the equivalent to any other person going to a day spa, but it is also that sometimes I see irresponsible behaviour as disrespect.

I know that someone not washing something may not necessarily be disrespectful.
I know that some people don't see crockery, demitasse cups, stove-top coffee makers, knives, ramekins, or bake ware as their children...


BUT


I


DO.

I know I shouldn't be that person writing notes in the house (I have never been that person in the house), but I swear to God that if I see someone scrubbing my pans with steel wool, throwing my Wusthof/Trident/Furi knives into the sink or not wash them after using, leaving tomato pips to dry ON THE BLADE, scratching the surface of my tins/cake pans/springform things with the aforementioned knives, throw my cups/ramekins into the sink so they chip, "forget" to at least rinse out the stove-top coffee makers so they don't grow so much mould that I have to name them again, I will seriously either buy a packet of post-it notes and leave instructions on EVERYTHING to piss people off deliberately or revoke everyone's right to use it by hording my belongings in my room and literally sleep with my knives next to my head.

You may notice that I made no mention of my fucking beautiful brandy-balloon wine glasses with the black stem and base which I bought 24 of at a ridiculous steal in some criminal homeware shop a little over a year ago.
That is because I have given up on them because there is only one left.
ONE.

Since when did I live with children?

This may also be a sign of me needing to exit the environment of a sharehouse.

OCD much?

But really, this is proof that I am right, because I am God. At sixteen. With shaving jizzem in my hair.

It is also proof that I should never wear prints ever again.