o I guess it‘s true: ‘that’ they don’t teach you in school. It must be what’s called ‘life experience’. You move out, you go to college, you live in a hall, you make great friends, and then in your second year, your university doesn’t let you stay in your hall, so you have to move out of your hall and see. It’s an expensive city, too. You’re, like, twenty, you’re energetic, but with a small budget, and you don’t mind so much that the ‘young professional couple’ seeking to sublet their spare bedroom will do so for an affordable price if you agree to help with household chores. Fair enough, you think, it’s a ten minute walk to campus. My friends are going to live in rat holes for a similar price this year. Cleaning the kitchen for three people sharing a flat won’t be as bad as cleaning the kitchen for six people sharing a flat, three of them anthropology students with heavy eye lids from smoking weed.
Let me tell you, because ‘that’ they don’t teach you in school, that this sort of practical thinking got me – and please, I might be statistically insignificant so don’t be led to assume that my situation mirrors a larger percentage of second year undergraduates in Londinium – into my present situation. Wait, I forgot to mention my present situation:
At the moment I am in my flat’s kitchen. It’s a large kitchen with black-and-white tiles on the floor. The tiles are aligned parallel to the walls, which don’t seem to be quite straight (well, it’s one of those nice Victorian looking houses), so the tiles closest to the walls had to be cut to fit. The cabinets are black and white, too, and shiny. All drawers and cabinets have silver metal handles. The appliances include: a Siemens stove, five hobs, gas, shiny, integrated microwave. An In-Sink-Erator in the design sink. A Whirlpool unit including freezer and refrigerator complete with an ice dispenser, whose cracking and humming noises have been driving me nuts all morning. A KitchenAid food processor, a DeLonghi deep fryer, a Jura espresso machine. Furthermore, a Samsung dishwasher, an unused KitchenAid, a Miele washing machine and dryer, a breadmaker (unused), a rice boiler, and a steamer. We have very high ceilings of which I can see very little in my current position. The small window opens into a brick alley at three floors up.
I am wearing my cleaning outfit. I have already missed ‘Introduction to Utopian Literature’. I am starting to get hungry. And the leather strip of the gag is cutting into my cheek deeper than usual, because Jen just isn’t as careful applying it as Laurence.
She came into my room this morning carrying my cleaning outfit, so I knew that she would probably want me to do the dishes before she had to leave for work. She also wanted full wig and make-up, so I had to hurry and my toe nail tore a bit of a run into the fishnet tights. I can feel it coming up my calf whenever I shift right now. Jen attached the bunny tail. She likes the bunny tail. It appears to be her private enjoyment, because she only asks me to wear it when Laurence is out of town. I guess it was also the tail that gave her the idea to tie me flat to the kitchen table, bunny tail up, after I had finished cleaning the dishes. Oh, right, in the center of the kitchen, there is a polished black table to which I am tied. I can shift a little bit, so my legs and arms don’t fall asleep too much. It’s not really an emergency situation, seriously, it’s just that Jen got a call just after she had positioned me to her liking and applied the cuffs. There was probably some emergency at her office, so she didn’t come back into the kitchen. After she had finished talking on the phone, she started to rummage around the flat nervously, hurriedly, and then she left. But, really, she often comes back during lunch break, so if she comes back today it’s only going to be about thirty more minutes. Plus, Laurence should be back from his trip today, too. So it’s basically just a matter of waiting it out in this, admittedly, awkward situation.
But, come on, it’s a ten minute walk to campus, and all my friends are living in total dumps this year! Whenever I have someone over, they’re dumbfounded because I pay so little for my room, and there’s a pool in the basement. ‘Well, in return I have to help with household chores, sometimes,’ I’ll say. I don’t usually mention to my friends that Jen calls me ‘serva’ (she has a BA in classics) and that I have several cleaning outfits, some shorter, some longer, some leather, some latex, but also lacey ones, like the one I’m wearing now. I guess being in this city is worth it. Everything that just so happens to come with it, I file under ‘life experience’.