Hostelite like me

It marks a month. A month living away from home, and the woes that follow..

A barely-alive senior residing in a place meant for the enthusiastic freshmen, the zealous sophomores and the jaded juniors. This is the first time, and most probably the last. It was good while it lasted. It wasn't fun to have to wrinkle your fingers in pails of laundry soaked in dynamo, mop the floor like how cinderella did. It was farewell to mommy's breakfast, mommy's lunch, mommy's dinner.

Yes, I cook, I cooked using my neighbours' pots and pans, plates and bowls. Yes, you'll need the necessary condiments, so I swiped. Oil, pepper, salt, chilli sauce, butter, full-cream milk, mayonaise. An intrinsic kleptomaniac I am. Neighbour from hell.

Neighbour from hell. Not just me it seems. Ask Sprat the mighty. The infamous lady in my cluster who allegedly plastered death threats in the toilets, on the fridge. She's there watching you when you pee, she's glares when you reach for your yoghurt. She's everywhere.

"Unsightly pee stains sighted on the toilet seats again. I know who you are. Be civilised else I'll make a complain against you."

"Real men don't use the ladies' bathroom."

"To the jerk who stole my chocolate milk: what comes around goes around..."

The same person who labelled ALL her possessions "SPRAT THE MIGHTY" *shudder*

The neighbour on my left plays indie rock at ungodly hours and wouldnt look me in the eye. She hates me.. The neighbour on my right wears a wig to school and spots a tattoo which peeks out from her hot pants. Oooohh..

Rise and shine. Shine and get coerced into rising. My room, apparently has insuperable fengshui. By 8am, birds begin their daily ritual of emitting freaky noises. The blinding rays allow to me to do what I love most. Bake and tan simultaneously in my room. Quote unquote.

I love my room. Messy. Very messy. Period. Moms know best, she saw this coming. Spick and span, my room not.