When I went to the bathroom first thing this morning, I noticed there were several hand towels on the towel hooks, and the only bath towel in sight was mine, which struck me as strange because, since J has been gone, there have always been lots of bath towels all over the bathroom. For a while there, it seemed like there were towels everywhere, and I had a hard time keeping track of which one was mine. I think A's girlfriend uses two towels when she showers, and I don't know who else is taking showers here.
I like a fresh towel every couple of days, especially in summer when I take 2 or 3 showers every day, so I put my old towel in the hamper. When I opened the cabinet to get out a new towel, there was only one left. I've been washing towels every few days, which I don't mind at all because I'm using lots of them and I might as well wash them all, but there were no towels to wash. Where did all the towels go?
A and his friends went out of town from Friday until late Saturday night, and they left a basket of dirty laundry on the porch. (Why?) In the basket were two of our towels. We have about 7 or 8 towels all together. Most of them are mismatched, old thrift store towels.
When A got up, I said to him, "What happened to all the towels?" He said, "Towels?" I said, "There are only a couple of towels in the bathroom." He said, "Hm. Maybe we took them swimming. I thought we got towels at ____'s house. Let me check." A few minutes later, when I went to the bathroom again, there were three more towels in my hamper, not including the ones that had been in the basket on the porch. The basket is not there anymore. We're still short of couple of towels.
We also have about 5 pint beer glasses, which we use for everything: iced coffee, water, ... beer. Friday night, there was only one on the shelf, and one dirty in the sink. I found 3 more in J's room (where A is staying).
I realize I am now officially a crotchety old man complaining about "kids today." Some of their behavior can be attributed to their youth I'm sure. But there are bad guests of all ages. How to be a good guest is something I learned because for many years I was so frequently a guest. I certainly didn't know at 20 what I know now. (Most important rule: Wash the dishes. All the dishes. Second most important rule: If you move anything, move it back. Third: Your clothes belong in your suitcase. Even the dirty ones. Especially the dirty ones. Fourth: be quiet. I would have thought that Don't have parties and Don't bring your uninvited girlfriend wouldn't even have to be on the list, but I guess they're not as obvious as I assumed.)
I hope I was a little better at human interaction than A and his friends when I was their age, but I wouldn't bet on it. I have a couple former roommates who I'm sure have unflattering stories to tell.
So what do I do? I think what needs to be done is that this boy needs to be slapped, but I'm not gonna be the one to do it. What I'm trying to do is ride it out, stay cheerful, and try to be a gracious host regardless. I feel more like a put-upon mom than a host. This experience makes me glad I never had kids, and makes me want to call my dad and forgive him for everything.