Yesterday, I was about to leave for my exam. I stil needed to brush my teeth, though, so I head out into the hall.
The cleaners were here, and they had the taps going in both the kitchen and the bathroom. Reluctantly, I head to the toilet.
One of the cleaners is bending over the toilet bowl, retching for all she's worth.
Trying not to retch myself, I quickly go back to my room, wondering how I was going to brush my teeth with all three of our facility rooms miraculously taken up by two cleaning ladies.
Cleaning lady 1: I can't stop throwing up!
Cleaning lady 2: That's normal. It's always like this, trust me.
At this point I got a little annoyed. This might be a student housing complex, but it's not that bloody dirty. And the bits that are dirty, like the bit in the kitchen between the bin and Sander's deep-fat fryer where a huge spider is now squatting, are ones that they are supposed to clean but don't. Not our fault either way.
Eventually, I get to brush my teeth. As I rush out, I ask the red-faced, teary-eyed cleaner if she's feeling better.
"Oh, yeah," she says. "I'm pregnant."
"Ah, I see," I replied, sounding more condoling that I really should have, and then I ran to make my exam, which I then completely buggered up.