House

I am teetering on the edge.  This house is tiny and is jammed full of 15 people who I wouldn’t even choose to drink with, let alone live with.  With the exception of two German guys and James, the young English boy I met at the airport, who are all as cool as fuck. 

My bedroom is quite possibly the smallest room known to man.  It has 4 of the oldest creakiest bunk beds crammed into it.  Calling it a bed might be an overselling it slightly seeing as it is probably more comfortable to sleep on the floor.  There are stains all over the mattress, which I don’t even want to think about.   I am sharing with 3 chicks, all of whom are quite sweet but not really my cup of tea.  It means that there is not one minute of the day that I am able to spend alone.  If I have to do one more false smile/laugh I fear my face may cave in. 

There are lots of rules too.  We all know how much I love a rule.  I can already predict trouble ahead.  One of the project leaders is already on my hit list.  I do mean actual hit list too.  She keeps banging on about what I can and can’t do,   I wouldn’t mind so much if she wasn’t about 15 years younger than me.  I have stomached it for today but she might need to wind her neck in at some stage, the patronising fucktard.