Third world life of an exchange student

Okay quick back story to my main pointless one, it was my granddad’s 87th and my uncle’s 50th birthday today, so we had all the family over for a big dinner.  My little cousin was here, and he is addicted to computer and iPhone games, anything technological.  So after his mum banned him from using the computer after his share of twenty minutes, we started entertaining ourselves with Siri.  Blah blah blah his mum comes back again and asks me to show him my ‘workshop’.

Okay.  And the lol for me begins.  I don’t actually have a workshop, I just used that room for a bit when I was working on my textiles major work for school, and after finishing that in the third term, I hadn’t done much or any study in there at all.  Actually, I have quite fond memories of watching The Office and New Girl for the first time in that room while I was supposed to be studying…  Anyway, it’s not actually my workshop, it only slightly looks that way because of my dress form and tonnes of boxes, some of which are actually mine.
The room is actually currently just filled with boxes of things belonging to a family friend who’s moving in with us while she studies abroad in Sydney, though right now she’s on holiday and back overseas, and all her things are still in boxes.  They kind of smelt for a bit…  And in the middle of that room sandwiched between the wardrobe and the corner desk, taking up majority of the floor space, right now, there’s a bamboo mat that Asian people use to sleep on, and a cushion at the top.  I told my aunt this, how a family friend is moving in there so it’s not my stuff.
She saw this awkward and prison-like setup and gave me the weirdest, what the hell, look.  Basically she thought that we were letting her sleep on the ground surrounded by boxes, like Harry Potter under the stairs.
That wasn’t as amusing nor embarrassing as I thought it would be.  Meh.
Laterz,
Just Another Woo Girl
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