I’m sat here at 7.40 AM reading over a conversation with one of my friends and an ex-friend because they argued last night. It started off about me, then degenerated and at the end I became a part of the argument again. My friend wanted me to judge him on what he said, so I’m reading through this argument and trying to pick out motivations and stuff. I was sure I’d finished close analysis, and feeling bad about a mistake I made two and a half years ago. I refuse to be made to feel guilty after all this time, and I don’t owe the ex-friend anything in terms of an apology or amends any more.
So, busy busy busy. And unintentional maiming of my person. Friday morning I decided to be good and went for a shower; during this time I tried to shave my legs with what turned out to be disastrous consequences. The razor slipped and sliced a fairly impressive wodge from the top of my left forefinger. Luckily it’s my non-dominant hand, but seriously. Try going about your day without being able to use one of your fingers. It feels really funny too – a bit tingly, really tight and just generically weird.
I went down to London last weekend, and I’m back again this weekend coming! Last week was just popping down to see Pops for his birthday as he’s getting old; I took a leaf out of my Auntie J’s book of humour and got him a Star Wars card that read “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away… You were born”. It amused me at least! It was nice – the family all went up on the London Eye, but since I couldn’t afford it I sat on the river bank and watched the street performers setting up.
Look, it’s like a Disney castle!
Then I spent all of the day after being in London in a field, playing with fire. I was knackered, as shown in this lovely photo. I have such a wrinkly forehead, like a pug. That’s my guide uniform with my beautiful necker. I kind of love that thing. We did a campfire singing thing at the end of the day, and I led it with another guide leader since mine was busy tidying up. We were louder than the other 60 people “singing”, even when doing one which you end up shouting. I got phoned towards the end of the day by a pub that I applied to ages back asking if I could spare a few minutes to talk about the application – I was in the middle of serving up dinner for 65ish people, so I asked them to phone me back the next day and now I’ve spent the past two days trying to get hold of the guy who’s sorting it all out, because I might be able to get the job. Maybe. It’s always a maybe at the moment.
I’ve been doing a few shifts at the University as a housekeeping assistant. I like it better than doing data entry, but it’s still rather evil. I spend four hours cleaning bathrooms, hoovering (urrrgh despise hoovering), and making beds. My hands still smell of the inside of plastic gloves and I’m seriously unimpressed. But each shift I do is a little bit more money in the bank, so I guess I shouldn’t be complaining.
Errrrrm. I had more planned for this post, but I’ve kind of forgotten what I was going to say. OOH! I graduate in less than two weeks. I had the weirdest dream about graduation – they were trying to incapacitate us before the ceremony by feeding us wine, port/sherry, brandy, shots of rum and the weirdest bit: a marijuana laced sugar cube. You can tell I’m a boring so-and-so, because even in my dream I went “Nope, not going to eat the sugar lump. I need to be able to walk and I’ve never done drugs so I don’t know what it’d do to me”. My subconscious is prissy.