Prune Juice and a Walker

I feel like the cranky old lady next door. Well, almost. Not so much to grab a broom (If I actually had one here) and hit my ceiling in the most subtle for of yelling, “shut up!” It is a group of 5-6 people smoking, drinking, and loudly enjoying the time I would rather be asleep. One girl snorts, one sounds like a goose, another just laughs alllllllllll the time, and another sounds like a dying hyena while the guys bellow and boom about whatever. Between the obnoxious laughter, the on and off of the outdoor sensor light, and the sound of my bathroom mirror (still making odd cracking noises)…Oh believe me deep breaths are most definitely involved. When I am at my most annoyed point they seem to die down… I close my eyes to fall asleep and then the clomp, stomp, shutting of doors, a final cigarette, the good nights, more hyena impersonations and a closing touch of bellow. Then it is the murmured conversation and the sound of something electrical in the wall opposite my bed.

This time the party lasts much longer, so I get up looking at the 2AM in the bottom right corner of my screen….7-8 hours till I drag myself out of bed to start my day. I start my playlist and attempt to focus on that. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink…….. Longer Blink… Eyes open again… Then close. Stay closed. I’m finally out. And wake up at 12…. I’m normally eating at 12 and in a matter of two minutes I am up, face washed half my uniform on and out the door in 5. If there is one thing I am good at, it’s getting ready when I wake up late. It happened a lot last winter. There was a bit of rust in the performance, but I’ll give myself a pat on the ole back for still having the speed.

Lunch wasn’t really worth jumping up and down for. I stuck to bread with butter, tomatoes, and slices of wurst, coffee and a piece of cheese cake. Germans here make great cheese cake. Not overly sweet and with the perfect texture. I hope to learn this recipe in my two weeks in the pastry station. And attempt to earn one piece a day. One great thing about the cafeteria is how everyone eats cake. It isn’t like back home where a girl shrivels at the sight of a cake slice wider than a centimeter… The whole time eating it and looking at everyone else’s pieces to make sure hers is smaller… If their piece is bigger they sigh and say, “Oh my, this is just too much!” And they leave a measly little crumb on their plate in order to congratulate themselves for their incredible will power. Hah! The girls around here just grab the whole piece and eat it… No conscience involved. They just eat it and enjoy. I love it! But then again here the desserts are sooo much more eating! They taste good... not that airy sugar crap without flavor, effort, and art….cough cough, publix cake, cough, cough…. No… these desserts… they are worth every guilt free bite!

I’ll stick around the hotel for a bit longer. Get myself really tired and hopefully be able to pass out sooner tonight. Maybe… ooh maybe they will decide to take the party elsewhere tonight…  Variety of the spice of life afterall… eh… Or I’ll just embrace my future of prune juice and a walker, find myself a broom, and hit the ceiling with pure and utter freedom…. If I can eat cake and not feel guilty why not give them a good ceiling thump?… maybe…  or just eat stinky cheese…. Again.