Unfiltered Story #361881

I have a box of files that belong to a non-profit group that I’m a member of. Some members of that group are at my apartment one evening.

Friend #1: *looking around the living room with a distracted air* Where are those files? I can take them with me today and store them at my house.

Me: They’re in my car, but if you want to take them, sure. I can go get them.

Friend #1, still distracted, goes to my coat closet and opens it. Friend #2 joins him, and they start taking things out of the closet.

Me: Um, guys? The files aren’t in there. They’re in my car.

They don’t seem to hear me. A pile of boxes and cleaning equipment forms in the middle of the room. I don’t have much storage space in my apartment, so I packed as much stuff in the closet as possible; it would take half an hour at most to put it all away again.

Me: Guys? Will you please stop digging through my things without my permission and making a huge mess that I’m going to have to clean up?

Friend #3: Hey, [Friend #1], [Friend #2], stop. The files are in her car.

Friend #1: Oh.

Friend #1 and Friend #2 finally seem to notice the haphazard pile they’ve created in the living room. They look embarrassed.

Me: *sigh* Just, leave it. I’ll put it all back later.