my friend vs my house (ongoing battle)

Don’t get me wrong, I love my friend a lot.
What I don’t love is that every time she comes over, something in my house mysteriously stops working… and she says nothing.

I can understand accidents. I really can. What I don’t understand is the complete lack of “sorry.”

Once, I invited her over for lunch right after I got a brand new deck of cards as a gift. I opened it, and within seconds, she spilled an entire glass of soda all over them. Some of the cards were ruined. I don’t remember her apologizing. She helped clean a little, sure—but I ended up doing most of it, drying each card one by one like it was some kind of ritual.

Another time, she broke a little penguin I had made for my brother out of cold porcelain. Her reaction?
“Just glue it back on.”
Girl. With what glue.

But the last few times were on another level.

I asked her to turn on the patio light—the top switch. The other two don’t even move. You can clearly tell which one works.
For some reason, she pressed the bottom one so hard she pushed it into the wall.
She didn’t say a word.

And then the bathroom.

She’s been coming to my house for years. She knows the toilet button is sensitive—you don’t press it all the way down or it starts leaking. I even tell everyone that.

The other day, she went in. Later, another friend told me the toilet was leaking.
I went to check.

The button was completely disassembled.
Not broken—disassembled.
Every single piece gone.

She didn’t even use the toilet. She just went in to change.
So yeah. I know it was her.

And she didn’t tell me.

That’s the part that actually makes me mad.