Uninvited Guests

No, it’s not metaphoric or a clever way of talking about something else that’s remotely connected to uninvited guests. I literally mean this one. Waking up to the sound of children has always haunted me. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate kids, I dislike them. Mostly ’cause they stare at my food at restaurants — and it’s a fricking curse, there’s always a kid nearby! It’s like they smell me. I shower occasionally too! I usually blame the parents in making them extra noisy. It’s like they wantonly chose that option when they decided to have kids -maniacal laughter inclusive
Anyhoo, so my flatmate’s family is here, and successfully wreaked havoc in my otherwise quiet life. And they have a child. A relatively quiet child with a loud family, who believe gibberish and screaming will help them communicate and make contact with the baby’s mind. No and no. It’s loud, crazy and frustrating. I work from home most times these days and it’s absolutely blissful. I wake up late, get stuff done, eat whatever the hell I concoct and then it’s work again. Now, I pretty much knock on office doors to let me the hell in! I’m not surprised the coffee shops haven’t put my picture as the customer of the year.
I even wrote a poem:
I stay in a small apartment shared by another dude,
we barely, rarely meet and I like it that way.
Then one fine Sunday, he has guests… Lots and lots of people.
My spider sense tingled but I brushed it away, I hoped it was for a day,
but like how most hope is taken inside out and thrown at you, this went the same way .
It’s been bad, I’ve been cooped up in my room longer than necessary. My home had become a prison, and not the kind of luxurious prison the VIPs enjoy. I ended up becoming a common rodent in my own home, moving only when there was a scent of quiet outside. The slightest noise made me scatter quicker than the fastest man alive. I like meeting new people, their stories fascinate me and their ideas sometimes ricochet off my head, but I honestly cannot bring myself to face the people who have taken everything from me. Am I exaggerating? I think not, Sir.
I found ways to keep them quiet. I played loud music and that’s made them vacate the living room and in to my flatmate’s room. A couple of friends suggested I play porn really loud, walk around naked. I considered and then played some more loud music. I totally get family time, I am not one for going against quality time, but this is at a cost. A cost of my will to live. Still not exaggerating. I really wish they’d have considered a b & b which is really not intrusive. I stay here and never in my most craziest mind would I have asked my parents to stay in this apartment with me. It’s intrusive, and I’m not calling my flatmate a complete idiot. But pretty close.
As I wake up each day hoping the nightmare is over, I hear the woman gootchie-gooing her grandchild. The worse happens to be the mother singing an annoying lullaby song that promises to make the child cry. Every. Single. Time. I will be lying if I said I didn’t feel tears rolling down my cheek every morning when I heard them. Then the child beats me at crying too. The kitchen is tiny and I enjoyed the peace that came with cooking awesome food and now it’s filled with baby bottles and empty milk cartons. Another tear rolled down my cheek. I wear earphones to block out the noise that seeps under my bedroom doors. I sit cradling myself wondering how things got so bad. I had my room, my fridge, my privacy and it was all taken away with no warning! Here I am at day 6, hoping against hope that this nightmare ends.
Oh by the way, my roommate has maintained complete radio silence on all of this. I’d probably lock him in his room after all this is over.
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