| Rant : To Kill A Kleptomaniac Quite often, communal living in college accommodation involves the sharing of facilities. Most people understand what this entails, but some brats choose to abuse what this stands for. I�ve had more than my fair share of trauma when it comes to this, and all this happened this term alone. In my first year in college, I stayed in a building full of other freshers like myself. No one was quite brave enough to pilfer things from the fridge, apart from the odd drops of milk and other unnoticeable things like that. Most people don�t cry over losing a few millimetres of milk to someone else�s teacup, but you�ve got a battle on your hands if you decide to eat your cereal with a healthy helping of someone else�s milk. Fortunately, I never had any problems with this. Everyone I stayed with were good people, and they respected other people�s property. Apart from my friend who decided to knock on my door one night, dead drunk, collapse outside it and then promptly vomit just a few feet from my door, and then leave me to clean it up. Looking back, it�s still unbearable, but it�s not something that will leave me plotting for revenge. It�s just something that happens. In my second year, fortune came my way and I managed to share a flat with a good friend of mine, and we ended up sharing a small kitchenette between the two of us. No problems at all. Which brings me to now, the first term (of three) in my third year. I�ve already had stuff pilfered three times from the communal fridge in the kitchen. So much for lightning never striking the same place twice. I�ve also gathered secret surveillance data from friends living a floor above, and they�ve had food stolen from the fridge in the kitchen upstairs as well. I�m not whining about drops of milk here. The first time, my containers of cooked mushrooms and packets of salami brought to me from Germany vanished, along with a block of cheese that I had brought on a summer visit to Amsterdam. I had never even had the chance to acquaint my tastebuds with the salami and the cheese, which makes the sin even more heinous. The second time was when an entire packet of marinated chicken parts disappeared. The kleptomaniac was kind enough to leave the other packet there, but by grabbing and running with the first packet, it ruined my plans of inviting friends over for barbecued chicken. By this time, I was furious and was well ready to put groceries into my friend�s fridge in his room. But I decided to tempt the hands of fate once more. And those hands of fate slapped me right back in the face. This third time, I lost an entire packet of chicken wings, as well as a box of frozen crumbed chicken and a box of frozen crumbed cod. By this time, I was seething with rage. My initial plan entailed sarcastic notes on the fridge, then my attention got diverted to a bottle of sleeping pills I had in my possession. You see, sometime in my second year, I had problems sleeping. So I bought a bottle of sleeping pills. Somewhere along the year, I came to my senses and found a way to lull me to sleep easily. This involves taking off my shirt, and I think I should leave it at that. Anyhow, I hadn�t quite gotten round to throwing the pills away, and evil thoughts of grinding them up (in non-lethal quantities) and sprinkling over selected parts of my next batch of groceries (which had to happen that day itself, since Klepto took everything) came into my mind. But I was uncomfortable with the evilness of it all, and yet, at the same time, I needed some way to cope with my rage. My next batch of groceries, I decided to leave in my friend�s fridge while I came up with a proper solution. Someone using the kitchen upstairs had put a note threatening to get the dean (the discipline person) to investigate if food goes missing again. But I thought that would not deter. You gotta strike deep. And sometimes the best way is to cause insecurity in people�s minds. Eureka! I had my plan. This basically involves deciding for myself what I wouldn�t mind losing. Things like milk, lettuce, tomatoes, carrots and ham slices, I�m generally okay with losing. I�m not that particular. But it�s when whole packets of meat decide to grow legs and walk that incite fury in me. Essentially, all I did was something totally harmless. Whenever I bought new packets of frozen meat, I would open them and consume at least one piece for my next meal. This way, if Klepto comes along and sees it, (s)he is less inclined to take it, because it could have been tampered with, since it�s open and there�s at least one piece missing. For fresh meat, the solution is even easier. I simply tore off the sticker that indicates the �use by� date. To twist the dagger even deeper, should Klepto decide to take anything, I will then promptly put up a notice that reads : To the person who has been taking my food without asking, I hope what you took thoroughly cleaned your digestive system, and to think I had forgotten to throw it away five days ago, thanks for doing me the favour! I tell you, if I were to ever take something and see a note like that, I�d probably develop a tummyache right there and then. So you see, one does not need to grind sleeping pills or spit onto meat or to even write threatening notes. The greatest advantage you can have over someone is that of their mind. Since I came up with this brilliant plan of mine, I have not had anything of mine taken from the fridge. Let�s hope it stays that way. I�ll be keeping the bottle of sleeping pills just to be sure. |