(I thought that my room could look a little like this but with a window seat.)
Jonathan awoke in the bathtub. He stood up and searched for a towel but found none. Stepping out of the bath, he walked into his room.
I can't get dressed soaking wet, that defeats the purpose. Where's Lillian? She must be late again. Nothing I can do. He looked around at the room that he had been living in for six years.
"Don't forget Jonathan, you have to help the chef today. I'm really looking forward to that." He had always helped in the kitchen, and no-one minded. Except the guests of course.
"You shouldn't be helping them, you should be expecting them to do it for you."
Like hell to that.