Kitchen Messes (With Roommates)
Walk into the kitchen. There are cabinet doors open. There’s a brown paper bag on the island from god knows how many days ago, and god knows whether it contained wine or bread (although it was probably one of those two things). Someone has finished his hummus but left the container open and “near” the recycling.
And the dishes. Dear god, the dishes.
Stifle your urge to slam the cabinets closed while passive-aggressively muttering about the state of this public space. Instead, open your fridge and get your cranberry juice. Neatly pour it into the same glass you always use, mainly because you know if you don’t keep it hidden in your room at all times, it’ll be dirty and discarded into The Heap Near The Sink in five minutes flat. Remain silent. Keep a cheerful smile on your face. All the while, be thinking of the worst curses you could possibly cast on your blissfully oblivious roommate.
Leave the cabinet doors open, the bag on the island, the hummus container “near” the recycling, and the dishes festering on the counter. When you come back out in twenty minutes and all of it’s still there, repeat.
Kitchen Messes (Without Roommates)
Walk into the kitchen. There are cabinet doors open. There’s a brown paper bag on the island from god knows how many days ago, and god knows whether it contained wine or bread (although it was probably one of those two things). An empty hummus container sits “near” the recycling.
Your one set of dishes is dirty. Consider washing them. Opt for a solo cup from the depths of some cabinet.
Open your fridge to get your cranberry juice. You have about a third of a glass left. You stare into the crimson ocean as you debate whether or not you should go grocery shopping. Survey the fridge. Chinese take-out from two weeks ago: not edible. Mustard: edible. Cheese: edible? It looks okay. You scan the island and spot a heel of bread left over that’s sort of wrapped up in plastic. You’ll risk it.
Take your open-faced cheese and mustard sandwich back to your room as you reassure yourself that messes, when you’re living by your lonesome, really just mean you’re doing better things with your time than keeping your kitchen clean.