It’s fairly common for things to go missing in shared spaces. The “VC Lost and Found” page frequently reunites losers with their found objects, but not everything that disappears gets returned. Such has been the case with certain new pieces of furniture in Cushing House. The dorm, having undergone a renovation that destroyed its bathroom sinks for any practical use, received a second facelift in the form of Mid-century style lounge pieces, replacing the Late Victorian sofas and the mysterious stains of bygone years. A problem has occurred for the dorm, however: A few of the chairs have gone missing.
An email from the House Advisor was not enough to uproot them from the offender’s private stash, and although students were given ample time to return the chairs or confess to their misdemeanors, no one stepped forward. This set in motion the most severe ResLife procedure possible: a student conduct process. Unfortunately, the thorough inspection of the entire building did not yield results in terms of the missing furniture. However, it did have serious implications for roommates Sasha Baron ’20 and Talia Johnson ’20.
“I got back to my room around 3 after getting out of class,” Baron reported of the horror scene that she returned to. “The room inspectors left one of Talia’s drawers open, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was full to the brim of Justin’s almond butter and dark chocolate cups. It was beyond distressing.”
Baron had reason to be alarmed—hoarding the other’s sweets and snacks is expressly prohibited by Baron and Johnson’s roommate agreement under the section “Items That Are Not Shared.” Apparently, Johnson had not taken heed to this rule.
“What do you do in that situation?” Baron wondered aloud, “I mean, you’ve been living with this person and believing that your almond butter cups really do just get carried away by mice or the lax bros next door steal them, and then BAM you find out you’ve been living a lie.”
Johnson claims to have no knowledge of her drawer being full of Baron’s candy.
“I have never not seen them, and I didn’t take them per se,” Johnson coherently argued in her defense, “I think the real question is why the room inspectors were looking for stolen chairs in my desk drawer.”
For Baron, however, one invasion of privacy is far more severe than the other.
“How can I trust someone who steals my almond butter cups? She wasn’t even eating them, she was just keeping them. Some of them I bought back in November. I don’t know what to believe anymore,” wept Baron.
Johnson, in another brilliant moment of self-defense, proclaimed, “In our modern era, all chocolate looks exactly the same. It’s the downside of a post-capital, post-modern, globalized society. How can we even be sure they’re the peanut butter cups she bought?”
Baron cried “They’re almond butter cups.”
As of this publication, the two roommates have yet to reconcile the conflict. Baron threatened to sleep in the hallway; she didn’t feel confident that Johnson wouldn’t just steal the bed out from underneath her. In response, Johnson quipped that she couldn’t fit a bed in a drawer. Both roommates went to stay in friends’ rooms.
Inspections continue for the missing Cushing furniture. The Misc requests that if you see something, say something.