There it goes again. I’ve just made one of my favourite meals, spaghetti bolognese. It’s the end of a long day at uni and now I’ve come home, ready to eat some good food. I would eat it in the kitchen but no one is there, so I innocently go to my room to watch stuff on my laptop. And there it is. Plop plop plop. Someone has decided that to be the perfect moment to enter the toilet and take a massive poo. What have they been eating? I ask myself, as I hear their grunts and plops over my now very loud headphones. The worst bit of all this being, only a single wall, separates us from making the most incredibly awkward eye-contact in the history of the entire universe.
Now it’s 3am. I’m awake. Not by choice. No, someone has decided that to be the perfect moment to run downstairs and brush their teeth. At 3am. 3 in the morning. 3 HOURS PAST MIDNIGHT. I silently rage.
What is waiting for me when I come back from uni later that day? A shadowy figure lurking behind the door that waits for that perfect moment when they’re just about to get in my line of sight, before leaping out from behind the door and screaming in my face. I scream even louder in response.
Getting to my room now I almost trip on a collection of letters, flyers, junk-mail and toilet paper rolls that have been shoved under my door whilst I’ve been away. (One time there was a burnt pizza).