Waiting . . . . .

I hate waiting.

Actually, that's wrong. I don't mind waiting for nice things, like presents and guests, or a table in a restaurant.

I dislike waiting for other things, like weight to fall off, the lottery jackpot to be mine or a taxi on a cold, wet night.

I hate waiting for results.

I am starting to feel a little crazy. I really need my results now. Damn it, uni, tell me please ! Have I failed so miserably that at least we'll get an epic poem out of it ? Or is it going to be more of a "Oh fuck" as I wander off, wondering why I spent those years accruing so much frickin' debt ? Or, fingers crossed, am I going to be pleased ? I'd like to be really pleased, really, really pleased but I will happily take pleased. Perhaps it's more like pleasantly surprised.

I'd say it feels like I'm checking every few hours, but that would imply I'm not actually doing that. And I am.

I hate waiting.

Totally Freaked Out

I stepped out of my bedroom to see a stranger standing in my living room the other day.

I had decided, being a little hungover and having the beginnings of a cold, to take my book and go to bed. After a little while I heard what sounded a little like a key in the front door. I didn't think much of it, it was about the right time for our flatmate to be coming home. Had that been the case the door should have opened and Flatmate should have said hello. Always does.

That didn't happen.I didn't hear the door open. After another minute or so I heard sounds again. I decided to investigate. Perhaps flatmates key had stuck in the door, or maybe, how ever remote the chance, someone was actually attempting to break in to my flat.

What I didn't expect to see was some strange woman standing in my living room having a look around.

She seemed as surprised to see me as I was to see her. At first I accepted her tale of having accidentally ended up in the wrong flat, in part due to hangover/cold and in part just because I wanted to get her out of my home.

Not long after closing the door, in the range of minutes, I realised what utter crap that was and called the police. How do you 'accidentally' end up in the wrong flat ? My door was closed, a lock keeping it that way. This part I am utterly sure of. I have a thing about my door being properly closed. It borders on a case of OCD. Plus she changed her story when I pointed out that the key she claimed to have, that was supposed to be for her friends house, would have been the wrong type of key for the lock she pointed to. Also for me not to have heard the door open and close she would have had to have been really, really quiet. My door makes a lot of noise.

Nothing was stolen, I don't think she had time for more than a look but it is kinda freaky stepping out of your bedroom to see a total stranger in your home.

And A Great Weekend Was Had.

My first full weekend of freedom is coming to a close. And it's been great.

On Friday evening I met up with a bunch of friends in a local drinking establishment and consumed a large quantity of wine, and a few shots of butterscotch schnapps. About ten of us ended up back at a friends house. I think it was after four in the morning when we got home. Much nonsense was talked and much fun was had. I think I danced.

My ever lovely and perfect Boyfriend, at least when he isn't annoying, had breakfast treats in so we had breakfast in bed, okay it was more like brunch, then lounged around watching cheesy TV until some friends called and asked if they could head our way for an evenings entertainment and stay over. This was readily agreed to. When they arrived we ordered takeaway from one of my favourite restaurants before heading out for a few pints. Unusually for us we all headed for our respective beds before two am.

Boyfriend yet again dealt with breakfast concerns. I don't think I have ever known him to spend so much time in the kitchen. Unless there was a party going on. All good parties end up in the kitchen. It's closer to the booze. And food.

After a relaxing morning we headed in to town for a stroll around. All was very leisurely. For the girls anyway, the boys headed to the gym 'cause they are mad. Unfortunately our friends couldn't stay for dinner, but Boyfriend and I called in to another restaurant we like. A whole weekend without cooking. Whoopee for me !

I feel like I have a social life again. And I like it.

Ooops.

I forgot what this post was going to be about.

My brain is not so good at keeping on track at the moment. Without clearing it with me, it has decided to take life at a holiday pace. Might be okay, might not.

That, and I have just discovered how much weight I have put on recently. Not amused.

Time to hit the gym. And stop swigging red wine. And start eating properly rather than living on takeaway.

May be that holiday mode won't quite work out.

Freeeeeedommmmm !

It's all over folks.

Dissertation, done.

Exams, over.

Oh fuck.