I know this, because we're all incredulous about it.
How is she affording this? (I was living with my parents to afford paying my own way through University at eighteen.) How does she seem so much more mature when you meet her? (She really does, very polite and mature for her age I think. Not that I know any other eighteen year olds for comparison, but still.)
So while she may be a polite, mature young lady, unfortunately, her friends are still eighteen.
And I am not.
Which explains why I was asleep at eleven pm on a Monday night the other week.
And why I did not expect a knock at my door.
But being older than eighteen, I also expected the knocker to realize they were in the wrong place and move on to the correct door (which I assumed was upstairs since there still aren't too many of us in the building and the lady across from me is away right now.)
Alas, the knocker did not share my....
Which, really, completely woke me up.
Which, really, completely pissed me off. (I'm a sleep hog. Don't mess with my sleep.)
So when said knocker decided to call out to his not-answering-the-door friend "OH ANGELLLAAAAAAAA! *knock, knock, knock*" I decided to get out of bed and yell through the door that he had the wrong door and needed to go up a flight.
"Oh . . . Yeah?"
I don't know the girl upstairs and I certainly don't know her friends, but even the year I lived in residence, people knew better than to continue knocking on a door that wasn't being answered. Especially when you have to get buzzed in to the building.
So, unfortunately, the saga of the not-quite-ideal-return-to-my-place continues.
At least my parents never knocked on my door once I was asleep asking for Angela. But, then again, I'm pretty sure they're not eighteen either.