The Most Subtle Torture Known To Man

At my grandparents’ place, trying to get 5 minutes of quiet leave-me-alone time, I am checking my e-mail in the bedroom. Door is open (my grandparents, like my mother, are not fans of closed doors; thank god bathrooms are an exception).

• Grandma: Do you want some juice?
• Me: No, thank you.

(2 minutes later)

• Do you want some juice?
• No, thank you.

(in another 2 minutes she brings me fresh squeezed juice)

(5 minutes later)

• Would you like some coffee?
• I already have some, thank you. (and I point at the half-full cup)

(2 minutes later, grandad walks in)

• Why does my head always hurt after I take a nap?

(walks out)

(2 minutes later, grandma walks in)

• What would you like for lunch?
• I don’t know, I like everything you cook.

(2 mins later, granma walks in again)

• Should we have X with Y?
• Neah, Y is enough, thank you.

(1 min later, walks in again)

• Are you sure you don’t want X?
• Yeah, I’m sure)

(2 mins later, grandma walks in with more juice)

(1 min later, grandpa walks in with strong liquer. At this point I have 4 glasses and one cup on the desk)

(2 mins later, grandma walks in)

• Come with me, I want to show you something.

(I go and look at the lovely pidgeons)

This is about the time when I realized being alone in a room was too much to ask for and decided to write this post and then, feeling really guilty about writing it, because my grandparents really are lovely people that love me and spoil me and everything, I also decided to go back to the living room. The only question is which of the glasses do I take back with me, since they’re all pretty much full?  

 

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