to think there is probably no recovering from this?

[HeyNannyNanny]

Just moved into a new flat share, a week ago.
I work FT and am typically reasonably shy so haven't met any of the new flat mates yet.
DP is not working at the moment so has spent almost all of his time in the new flat, so subsequently has spent a lot of time here.

Late this morning we were having a play fight* in our bedroom which was basically me stealing all of his underwear so he couldn't have a shower. This culminated in me wearing 15 pairs of boxer shorts over the top of my PJs and about three pairs on my head, so that he couldn't grab them out of my hands. We were both in stitches because we're both secretly children (both actually in our late 20s) and found this very very funny.

DP opens our bedroom door into the corridor to escape to the bathroom, gleefully holding a pair of rescued boxers out of my grasp. Both of us are giggling like mad.

This, of course, is the perfect moment for two of our flatmates to be in the adjoining kitchen, enjoying a leisurely cup of tea.

I met my flatmates for the first time adorned with 18 pairs of men's boxers, some of which on my head.

AIBU to think that I'll probably never live that down in this house? And that perhaps emigrating should be in my near future?

*its important to note that this was very very quiet and we also live next to a helipad and next door are having some kind of party so we weren't disturbing anyone with the giggling.

I think its a long established business. Back in the 50s apparently.
I hate it. Especially as it is for entertainment not for emergency services.

I cannot explain how loud it is.

I lived in an arrangement like that in the 80s, bedsits with a shared kitchen. The landlord called it bed and breakfast so we had less tenancy rights, and supplied a loaf of bread and a pint of milk (between about 15 tenants!). Somethings don't change.

Can't you just always be walking round with pants on your head as if it was absolutely the most normal thing in the world? Just be all casual like 'oh these...its just my pants hat'

I managed to introduce myself to my (then) boyfriend's (now husband's) rather smart house-warming party by vomiting copiously in the brandly newly refurbished downstairs toilet - this was the beginning of ten days of gastric 'flu.

I managed to stop apologising after about ten years.