Moving through the wardrobe, I notice another door. The bathroom. It has a huge mirror (did I mention I have a weakness for mirrors?), a shower, and a jacuzzi. How much more perfect could it be? I never expected to have such a room. The house in Santorini was big, but it was a simple house, nothing special.

I start organizing my things, marking my territory. At the same time, I think of ways to convince my mom to let me keep the room.

– Come on, Mom. I've already unpacked.

– Your own fault.

– I'll do the house chores every day.

– No.

– I'll cook three times a week.

– No.

– I'll do the house chores every day and cook three times a week.

– No.

– Four times?

– Hmmm… let me think about it…

(I feel encouraged.)

– No.

– Come on, Mom, what do you need this room for at your age?

– Is that how you're trying to convince me?

She seems annoyed, and I think I’ll have to move all my things back to the basement of the house. I should have left something behind on the island.