I kind of lost it last night.
First, let's back up to Sunday. Drew was working and I was getting ready so that I could meet him for lunch. It was about 11 AM. Mike came upstairs to cook some breakfast. He asked me if we had some pancake mix that he could use because something happened to theirs, but I didn't want to know what. I told him that if we had any, it would be in the pantry. A few minutes later, he asked me what temperature I set the oven to if I'm making cupcakes.
"Whatever the box says to set it at"
"Well, I don't have a box" ::I give him the side-eye:: "So, what do you usually set it at?"
"I have no idea."
He says ok, so I walk back to the bedroom to finish getting ready. I walk out to the kitchen a few minutes later, after he has walked back downstairs, to find cupcakes made out of pancake batter cooking in my oven. As I left, him and Andy had buttered and syruped their pancake cupcakes and were sitting in the dining room eating.
I got home from lunch with Drew to find that the remaining pancake cupcakes, syrup, and open butter container were sitting on the counter. Both sides of the sink were filled with dirty dishes, and their plates had just been thrown in the sink without really being washed off. Becca came home from church and they all left. About an hour later, they came back and she got some stuff out of their fridge and left again. The kitchen remained the way that I had described.
Drew got off work and we went up to my mom's house for a little bit. We stopped and got some dinner and got home about 8:30 PM or so. They still weren't home, and according to Drew didn't get home until about 11:30 PM.
Yesterday morning, we got up and got ready and went to work. The kitchen remained the way I had described. I decided to go tanning after work so I got home about 6:45 PM. Drew had a softball game last night so he wasn't going to eat dinner and I would be making my own. I walked into the kitchen, quite famished at this point to start my dinner. The butter and syrup had been put away, but everything else remained the way I had described. I didn't have a clean pan to cook my dinner in because they had apparently already made dinner for themselves. I couldn't even easily wash a pan to cook my dinner because both sides of the sink were filled with dirty dishes. Mind you, the dishwasher was filled (well, half-filled because Mike decided to empty the bowls and plates from the bottom rack of the dishwasher) with clean dishes.
That's when I lost it!!
I stormed out to the living room (where Drew was playing a poker game) to vent over the state of the kitchen. We had been laughing over them leaving their stuff out for so long and were wondering how long it would take for them to put it away. I was livid at this point. I rant for a few minutes and then go back into the kitchen to clean up so that I can make dinner.
I don't think that I could have made any more noise while unloading the dishwasher unless I broke things. I was slamming the glasses and cupboard doors. As soon as I get done unloading the dishwasher, I yell to the living room, "How long did that take me? Oh right, two %(#&%)# minutes!!" I start reloading the dishwasher and cleaning out the sinks so that I can wash a pan and, low and behold, Mike and Becca come walking into the kitchen carrying some dishes. He tells that they were 'just coming upstairs to wash their dishes'. Uh huh! Right!! I continue to load the dishwasher and start to grab some of the dishes that Mike had just set on the counter. He tells me that they can wash their own dishes, then picks them up and comes over to the sink to start washing them, shoving me out of the way in the process. So now, I've got the sinks emptied so that I can finally wash a pan and he's standing in the way washing his own dishes. I storm out of the kitchen once again and go into the living room where Drew is at. I look at him, tell him what happened, and then tell him that he better get in there and do something before I stab them with a dirty fork.
Drew goes in and fills a pan, that they had washed, with water and starts it boiling. Drew said that they couldn't even look him in the eye. They finish cleaning up the kitchen and go back downstairs, not to be seen for the rest of the night.
I don't think that I overreacted. Maybe acted a little immature in the slamming of cupboards. But enough is enough. They rarely do the dishes. I think that Becca has helped out less than a handful of times. And they cook in there plenty of times. Only time will tell if my little tirade will change their behavior. I don't care if they don't like doing it or not. I don't particularly enjoy doing the dishes either. But it's part of being an adult and living somewhere.