My housemate drank all my green tea. Now this doesn't seem very large of a thing, Until one considers these points :
- I brought this tea with me from home, and after Salubi left, it is one of the few things I have here that remind me of home.
- This is incredibly expensive tea, from a very, very limited batch of Queensland-Mango-infused green tea - not teabags, rough cut loose leaf, cut by hand.
- This tea is irreplaceable. The Tea-maker who created it had been making tea all his life, and was, most likely, one of the greatest tea-makers to have ever lived - Note the past tense, because he has, to my great sorrow, passed away.
- This tea-maker was also one of my close friends.
- There was enough left in that bag of tea for at least ten large pots. In her usual greed to put anything in front of her down her all consuming gullet, She used the lot, making two pots, and then ruined it by dumping sugar in the pot till the horrible mess she'd made of making the tea was acceptable to her numb, greedy palette.
- It is obvious she didn't want me to discover her consumption of the tea, because the teapot was almost where I left it, though with tea and a crust of un-dissolved sugar at the bottom, the tea right where I'd left it, and even the strainer cleaned, with an enormous clump of the used tea-leaves in the bin. This shithouse attempt at cleaning does clearly indicate deception, because of three points - A)She actually honestly thinks she's the smartest person alive, among her other claims that she's superior in every way to everyone else, so naturally thinks that her clumsy attempts at subterfuge are absolutely impenetrable. B)I told her not to touch it, and I told her why, and exactly how angry I'd be if she went against my wishes on this - and she knows that I'm creative enough, vicious enough, and far and away knowledgeable enough to punish her in ways she cannot imagine. C)She is utterly incapable of living like a human being, and cleaning up after herself is as alien of a concept as theoretical physics is to an amoeba, as evidenced by the various plates and kitchenware scattered around her desk, often covered in or half full of rotted and stinking food with mould that has, in it's own right, become a separate entity to the mess that spawned it, collecting next to the - at the moment of this post - 16 separate takeaway remains, the hundreds of ciggarette butts(all stripped for the tobacco left over, for after her welfare money has run out and she's reduced to smoking hand-rolls made with the leftovers) thus marking this clumsy and pathetic attempt at cleaning up after herself a conscious and concerted effort.
- Not only is the kitchen table covered in cold, spilled tea, One of the filthy and moldering saucepans in the kitchen sink is half full of the tea, marking the fact that after she turned my tea into an undrinkable mess, she poured at least one pot of it down the sink
I'm now going for a walk, a long one, because I'm beyond angry. It would be fine if I were angry, because I never do things when I'm angry, because only bad things result. Right now, I've gone past angry and well into calm, rational, and above all, cold - and that is the point where I do things that do nothing but harm, but I don't regret in the slightest.
If I'm in the house for another second, after I finish this sentence, I will most likely turn on her computer, erase everything in her GAIA account, change it's password and login details, ditto that for her every online account, the same with every one of her IM accounts after blocking and deleting all of her friends(and when I say All of her friends, I mean that she has literally no friends outside of the computer, there is only two people who can stand her when she can't just put up as many fakeries and falsehoods as she pleases to make people like her online), and then wiping every hard drive she has, which includes such things as Years of Yahoo messenger logs that she considers priceless and irreplaceable - though the more I consider that thought, the more it tempts me - Her Prized collection of anime (without exception, all either Bishonen, Moe, or Kawaii shows, she won't watch anything else), and of course, the rough drafts of her on-going Novel, which she considers to be the greatest pinnacle of Literary achievement, and every other soul who has glimpsed so much as a page of it to be stupid Self-insertion mary-sue drivel, Packed to the gills with purple prose and every single horrible literary trope and example bad writing known to man, though admittedly it holds the sole distinction of being the only thing ever written that is worse than both the poetry of Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings and Twilight, simultaneously.
