Homeless

It was another typical Thursday morning. I have the day off but I am always awakened to the beautiful voice of the cleaner, Maria, speaking jive with one of her chikas on her cell phone in the hallway. That is actually putting it lightly since the woman practically screams into the phone. Her friend must be deaf and if she wasn't before she is now.

Now the cleaner always comes into my room on Thursday and it usually depends on how slow she is doing her job. I heard her in the hallway and totally forgot it was my day to get my room cleaned so I went to take a shower. The water wasn't the hottest this morning so I was definitely in there ten minutes top. I stroll back down after my shower go to open my door and it won't open...wiggle the handle again...nothing. So now I drop my wet towel and shampoo and go running down the hall to see if the cleaner is in any of the kitchens or the bathrooms. She is nowhere to be found. Somehow this woman was able to clean my room, finish the other rooms and leave in a span of me taking a shower in ten minutes. Thank god at least I had a pair of shorts and a t shirt with me because now I'm thinking SHIT I have to walk all the way to reception in the cold in my Inca Kola t shirt and black gym shorts, with no shoes. Luckily Zoe came out of her room. Apparently there is a phone in our kitchen that has a direct line to security!? Three months here and I failed to notice we have an emergency phone.


Cut to me standing at my door waiting for security. An ambulance almost came also because I gave Sheenagh the biggest heart attack as she walked outside her door. Once her heart stopped racing she left and then comes the security guards. Of all the guards it just had to be the Polish guy who I swear is Vladimir Putin's long lost son. He's pretty jacked ala Putin and shows absolutely no sympathy or emotion. He opens my door and then says, "This is gonna sound stupid, but you should keep your key on you at all times." I felt like saying, "She shouldn't have locked my door, I was gone for ten minutes tops!", but I was afraid he'd go KGB on my ass so I kept my mouth shut. Then I get back into my room. She didn't even vacuum my floor or clean my sink. She just took the garbage out and she used the same bag because the wrapper from my Tesco sandwich the other night was still in there. Obviously she isn't the smartest at covering up her trail because she left a whole lot of evidence. Mrs. Cleaner if you are out there somewhere reading this, I only have one more week with you (holy shit it's only one more week), please clean my floor and sink one last time. It would make me so happy.

I'm gonna start a new segment, the daily Boyko, since apparently the Boyko's have their own cult following with the readers: Apparently my 85 year old grandfather Wasil discovered youtube, and now as a result he is playing polkas all day at Viktoria Richards Chocolates! Oh joy! In his honor here is "Who stole the Kishka?" Look at the highest rated comment under the video!