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When I have finished stabbing myself in the eye with this needle. September 25, 2009

Posted by Fiona in Bwargh, Sheer bloody-mindedness.


So I’m back off up to uni on Sunday.  Hurrah for small mercies.  At present, however, I am mainly sat in my room listening to the dulcet tones of Stephen Fry, eating too much chocolate and moving everything from one end of the room to another.

By which I mean I’m packing it.

By which I mean I’m sitting on my bed surrounded by bits of paper, knitting socks.

Or sitting with a sock in front of me, half-knitted, intending to do something about it.

I am not used to having nothing to do.  Humanity-defying boredom and I do not normally find ourselves in the same room.  Or not, at least, in the same room making eye-contact and sharing in-jokes.  But it’s not even funny any more.  I am clawing at the ceiling.  I’m rearranging my dressmaker pins by colour.  Over the last two days I have consumed my body weight in Toblerone and water biscuits and rediscovered my A-level Economics notes.  This should not be happening.

What makes it infinitely worse is that I’m bracing myself for going back to a colder place with a less comfy bed and about ten million times more stress.

On another note, yesterday I went to see all my Guides again.  It was excellent.  Human company!  We all made tutus and it was really exciting.  Who needs friends your own age when you can make elasticated skirts from strips of neon-coloured netting with thirteen-year-olds?

Give it four weeks and I’ll be joyfully reminiscing about the days when I didn’t have too much to do.  But in the mean time, it is slowly driving me to distraction.



1. Callan - September 26, 2009

Waiting is rubbish. It’s like the fifteen minutes before a party you’ve organised actually has people turn up, but much worse.

Still, not long left now, no?

2. Flix - September 26, 2009

Packing is the worst thing in the world apart from all the things that are worser.

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