Room mates

It's been over ten days now since a friend and his mother moved into my apartment. They had a fire (and some other complications) and  had no place to go. So I took them in,  hoping to provide shelter to friends in need. It's not the first time, as I have had four other people stay over at my place (the longest for seven months...) over the past fice years or so. My place has become an asylum, and butt of jokes of sorts.

I really wanted to help and offer my place up to friends in need. But the situation is more complicated by the fact that my friend's mother is somewhat difficult to live with because she has a condition that causes her to react erratically. So I feel tensions at home, and for the past several days have  purposely avoided coming home too early so as to avoid using the kitchen. And the last thing I want is to come home and have dinner already cooked for me. I am just not comfortable with that. Even when staying with my mum while she was relatively well I didn't like her to cook for me and have dinner waiting for me.

And I noticed every day someone goes into my room. I know who it is, but am I going to confront the person, especially if the person is not totally sound? I know someone's been in there because my door is opened and the heating is turned on full blast, something I never do. I just detest the heat and stuffiness. So I come home everyday, for the past week or so (with the exception of three days in Vegas) and I feel violated that someone's been in my room and played with my heating . Is it trivial? Maybe. And when I asked about the heating the other day, the auntie said she didn't do anything.

 I now lived in the cramped space of my bedroom, with a desk squished in so I can do some work at night. There's dirty laundry everywhere as I  don't even use the washer because there is simply no place to hang my clothes to dry. my friend and his mother have taken over most of the space in the apartment. Even the kitchen is just full of their belongings, making me feel so disinclined to go in there and cook. And my food and fruits have been disappearing. To my frustration, the honey I have and use every day to make tea with is empty now.

I know my friend has things and problems of his own, especially having to fibd a place at short notice, and I admire, truly, the respect and love and care he shows his mother. But I feel like my offer of help when they are in need has just been taken for granted. Not that I want anything in return. But just a little appreciation that i live there too, and that it's my house and not to go into my room is enough. 

Either that , or I am becoming very petty and selfish. 

One more day, and they are gone.
It's been long enough.