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Disaster Zone
All I’ve been doing these days is lie on my parents’ bed for hours on end, trying to watch tv over the deafening din of drilling and hacking going on almost everywhere else in my house. And the worst part is that I have been evicted out of my room.
My life has literally gone topsy turvy. You can now find toiletries in my brother’s bedroom, shoes in the living room, kitchen equipment nowhere and my room, my haven, my home in my home, is beyond recognition. I have had to sleep on the floor of my parents’ bedroom and while I know of people of all ages who find a sense of comfort sleeping by their parents, I for one dislike it. And I’m quite certain my parents are not too thrilled by my presence either.
My feet has not been free from dust for days. I’ve had to hold in my pee because I don’t want to get my feet dustier than they already are by walking to the toilet. I barely eat. And at the top of my My-Life-Is-A-Disaster List is that I cannot find my facial foam, and being someone with bad skin, I have an intimate relationship with my facewash. It takes decades to find the perfect soap that does not dehydrate or overly-moisturizes, that does not smell too medicinal or is too perfumed that it causes breakouts, that fits the palm of the hand so perfectly, just optimal for squeezing. I’ve been using some unidentified facial foam that I found lying in the bathroom and I feel positively treacherous.
I cannot wait for my life to get back to normal. But not as much as I cannot wait to empty my bladder.
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