In a similar theme to that of my last post, revision has been pushed to one side in order to make room for exciting things like macaroni cheese, Gilmore Girls, and wearing pyjamas. Oh, now, don't get me wrong; I have been ATTEMPTING to revise. Hell, I've even been setting my alarm clock for 10:16 (reason: the snooze button goes off every nine minutes, but stops alarming me completely when it's been about an hour, meaning that I have to get up, or remain in slumber until a much later date. So if I have it set for 10:16, then it should stop nice and exactly at 11:10, which is a lovely round number, especially if you consider that the clock itself is exactly ten minutes fast). Now that's early, let me tell you. Also, I have been escaping the distractions of the house and instead of accidentally watching hours of Celebrity Big Bother (if the remote has gone missing, of course) from the comfort of our dusty faded sofa, I spent four hours yesterday being almost entirely swallowed up by a dusty faded sofa in Boston Tea Party, whilst partaking in a bit of munching on some very tasty lemon cake. I managed to do, oh, let's say, a good forty five minutes of revision, I reckon, what with the distraction of a certain Miss Daw to drag me away from the fascinating pages of my already read book, and then the arrival of Mel to amplify to me the fact that I am never, ever going to be able to revise. Even now, four days before my first horrific unintelligible exam, I am planning on curling up in bed and watching some sort of mind numbing rubbish in order to distract me from the pain and death that revision itself brings. Who cares if Enlightenment is man's release from his self incurred tutelage? Not me. Nor am I interested in whether Winnie in the Secret Agent is more or less crazy than Undine in Custom of the Country. And, whilst we are whinging in this self important manner, why do they all have such stupid names? Who would name their child after a french crimping tool? Not me, that's for sure. As you know, my child shall be named Rain. Rain Bowman. Watch out, future baby.
Being that it is 11:40, and my hilariously ignored revision timetable insists that I begin this farce at 12:00, I possibly should be making some sort of move towards getting dressed. Or getting out of bed. I have -laughably - planned myself EIGHT HOURS of revision. What was I thinking? Have I met myself? I haven't even been able to do eight hours of revision in a WEEK. I haven't even got through Heart of Darkness yet, and it's less than a hundred pages.
On a vaguely less depressing note, Dani has decided that she wishes to stay in our delightful prison house next year. Oh yay. More unwashed dishes and bitchy ignorings from the sore thumb blonde cheerleader/rower who dwells in the baby pink and fluffy room adjacent to mine. What more could I wish for. On the other hand (which has different fingers), it means we don't have to have some new scary person who could possibly be worse, messier and also an axe murderer. We struck lucky when Booth left, and Seb moved in with his colourful trousers and bagpuss hair, and his penchant for stealing everyone's food. That sounded sarcastic, but he has motivated the house in very strange ways, for example, most of us barely left the house last term, but since the arrive of our multicoloured guitar playing friend, we have barely been in the house. And although Alex and Steve have not yet, as such, warmed to him, it is only a matter of time, I am sure. Mel, however, is totally in love with him, which is nice, and it is a shame he is not of the hetero variety as he and Molly seem to get along like quite a number of houses on fire. Perhaps he is Mary Poppins. He sure looks like her in my cord jacket.
No comments:
Post a Comment