Day 98: Why Won’t There Be a Living Room in My House?

As soon as I arrived on my street and saw the (Smart) delivery car from the “Freddy Fresh” pizzeria parked near my building, I feared the worst. In an instant, all the pizza flyers piled up on the hallway shelf flashed through my mind. When I opened the front door and smelled pizza in the stairwell, my fear grew. Passing the delivery guy on the landing, I was almost certain. And when I entered my apartment and was hit with the strong scent of pizza, all my fears came true.

My world collapsed when I discovered there was a party in my house. I don’t mind my flatmates having a party—the real issue is that, since we don’t have a living room, the party takes place in my kitchen. That meant the pre-baked ciabatta I had just bought wouldn’t be going in the oven… because in an 11-square-meter kitchen, there were 13 drunk Germans!

Besides missing out on dinner, I wouldn’t be able to study properly in my room (which is right next to the kitchen). I had to submit a report the next day, but I couldn’t focus with all the shouting, laughter, and banging. I don’t know what Germans think a party is, but if it involves gathering in a kitchen, eating salty crackers, sharing anecdotes, laughing while pounding on the table, and drinking beer… And then, once they’re wasted, they each go home to sleep it off—without even going out. At most, they watch a porno (yes, they’re that sad).

Thank God I have earplugs so I can block it all out and study in peace. The only problem is that I can’t go into the kitchen. This wouldn’t happen if my house had a living room—or if we hadn’t converted the one we had into another bedroom to save money.

Oh, and by the way, the party was for Secret Santa…