You are a calm, intelligent and creative middle aged man of sickly looks, a simple and undistinguished loyal agent of Ministry of Truth in the Outer Party. You come back to your communal home and enter your section. A corridor of doors leading to an incredibly cramped kitchen where, by confusion in strict protocols with unique architecture, only one telescreen was installed, leaving the table out of the Party's oversight. The entrance to your small room is next to the kitchen. What goes next?