What a week (and a half). Rather glad it's over to be honest.
It was fun to see our university friends again - it felt like we were all back in Nottingham, trading insults and all piling into bed for cuddles and games of "Which C-list celebrity is the worst mother?" Jolly Tall (the lovable but totally bonkers ones) didn't leave until Thursday, which meant that S and I were sharing my room (Jolly Tall is 6'4 and it seemed cruel to force him to contort his body into a pretzel just so he could fit onto one of our teeny tiny sofas). Now I love S dearly, but not having to share a bed with her any more is nothing short of blissful. Especially since she has recently taken to arguing in her sleep.
My nights weren't improved by the monumentally ridiculous decision by Thames Water to dig up the road outside the flat. For three nights. Until 3am. My rage-filled, sleep-deprived induced phone call to the council the next morning to complain elicited the response that if the roadworks being undertaken are an "emergency", then they can be done at whatever time they like. I had to ask what kind of "emergency" this was, since they didn't appear to be doing any work on it during the day, but it didn't get me anywhere. Luckily by the third night they had finished; S seemed genuinely concerned that I was about to go over the edge, since I spent the entire evening with my face pressed up against the window, pausing only to update her on their progress ("they're still bloody at it") and mutter obscenities darkly.
The departure of our house guests, however, has heralded the return of Russell Brand, a turn of events about which I am not exactly thrilled. He is becoming more and more of a permanent fixture in our lives and to be quite honest I'm fed up to the back teeth with him. All he does is make S cry - nothing she ever does is good enough, no amount of time spent with him is ever enough, and apparently if she doesn't include him in every single thing she does, this shows that she doesn't love him and he goes into a meltdown. Basically, he's a total prick and she'd be much better off without him, but of course she's in love with him so she keeps trying to patch things up. Which means more and more of him glooming around the flat with a face like a wet weekend and taking absolutely forever in the shower when I really need to brush my teeth and get to work.
I'm also talking to the Boy again. It started off with him criticising my new planet-pattered leggings (I'm not entirely sure what else I was expecting, since I know he hates leggings and anything too out there, fashion-wise - "I just think they're too kooky even for you" - charming), but he tried to make it up to me by sending me a link to a website I happen to be already very familiar with, featuring dresses, leggings and various articles of clothing with a Star Wars theme. I mentioned that there was an R2-D2 dress that I rather liked (skin-tight, incidentally; not totally sure I would ever actually get into it, let alone out of it again), and then the conversation took a turn for the interesting. "At the risk of overstepping the mark... I can't think of an appropriate word. Hot sounds too generic, and would imply you're not otherwise. It's a strange phenomenon. It's like geeky and hot combined. You'd be pretty smoking in it, so buy it already haha."
Well, I'm going to have to get it now, aren't I?
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