I have no issues with my roommates using my kitchenware, pots, pans, utensils, whatever... provided they don't ruin them in the process. Through the course of the year, one of my roommates has melted two plastic spatulas on the grill because he couldn't find--hanging on the side of the grill, mind you--the metal one to flip his burgers. In addition to the spatulas, he used a regular fork to toss/stir/serve pasta from one of my stock pots and scratched a lovely little pattern into the bottom and sides. Also, I come home one night to find him using one of my saute pans for a stir-fry dinner with his girlfriend... fine, I don't mind, just clean it when you're done... then in a moment of brilliance he tries to fling the hot oil out of the pan and off the balcony into the lake below, only to slosh it all down his right arm and drop my pan over the edge with a shriek of pain. After cleaning his wounds he promises to get my pan from the lake's edge the next morning. That was Nov. 29. The pan made it back to the kitchen Jan. 3 and wasn't cleaned until tonight. It is clean because I cleaned it, because I need it. Not to mention it was knocked out of round and into this lovely little oval shape... which I had to bang back as close to round as I could get and keep the bottom flat.
In short... everyone in the house is on notice, that if they use my stuff, it is to be cleaned. If they damage my stuff, I will not be jerry-rigging it to work or banging it on the counter to bend it back in shape, they will be replacing it. I am a hair's breadth from telling them they cannot use my things anymore, and moving everything except the paper plates into my bedroom. I will store them under the bed, and dig out and bury whatever I need before and after each meal, respectively. GRRRRR B&B, GRRRRRRRR.
In short... everyone in the house is on notice, that if they use my stuff, it is to be cleaned. If they damage my stuff, I will not be jerry-rigging it to work or banging it on the counter to bend it back in shape, they will be replacing it. I am a hair's breadth from telling them they cannot use my things anymore, and moving everything except the paper plates into my bedroom. I will store them under the bed, and dig out and bury whatever I need before and after each meal, respectively. GRRRRR B&B, GRRRRRRRR.
