Could be worse

The alarm clock rings at nine. I reserved the whole day for writing an assignment. But I don’t crawl out of bed until around 10:30. After a half-hour shower, I eat my breakfast on the balcony, a sandwich with white XXL sprinkles. A one-legged seagull waits patiently for me to go back inside so he can eat the crumbs.

When I am halfway through my introduction, the doorbell rings. There are two women at the door. One of them asks how I’m doing. As they talk about how they notice that many young people often experience stress, I wait for them to start talking about God. After a few minutes, the Lord’s message is proclaimed, and I’m given a flyer. The woman gives me a fist-bump and says she is proud of me.

An hour later, I make a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches. I rinse off the pre-cut slices of cheese first because my roommate’s apple juice leaked all over them. Once they’re done I plop down and swipe past women on Bumble with beige coats who have ‘wine’ listed among their interests.

When I’ve just started writing again, the bell rings once more. The man at the door tells me he is a window cleaner and has cleaned our windows. He gives me a business card with a phone and bank account number, which I forward to the landlord. An hour later, he texts me back that he hasn’t asked anyone to wash the windows.

As I pause from writing with a few YouTube videos, my roommate comes home. He puts a ready-made lasagna in the oven while I heat a pancake with a raspberry and white chocolate filling in a pan. We play loud punk music with humorous lyrics. During dinner, my roommate pulls out his laptop to show off his Minecraft world.

After listing all the instances I was expelled from class in high school later that evening, we both decide to head back toward our rooms. When the bell rings my roommate flees back into the living room. I don’t understand why he is doing this and open the door. The downstairs neighbor yells that some people have to get up goddamn early tomorrow. Petrified, I listen to him cursing with various terminal diseases before he turns on the miner’s light on his head and walks back downstairs. My roommate hesitantly walks back into the hallway and shows me eight messages from the lower neighbor asking if it could be quieter. “Sorry, I hadn’t seen them. I’ll text our apologies”, my roommate says.

I decide I will continue working on the assignment tomorrow and go to sleep now. 300 words in one day. Could be worse.