(no subject)

Having some mild issues juggling time and space. I desperately want to write up the marathon ("You know what would make this episode better? A giant cow with AIDS instead of zombies. That would be more plausible.") or, to be honest, my most recent lectures ("So, this time, I got the bubonic plague. No, honest. It doesn't hurt that much, although I did have morphine.") and the general adventures in the life of me.

However, twelve hours of David Tennant, Jackie's breasts, several doughnuts, vampire erotica and trying not be too meta-fannish about the entire thing until I realised that the girl next to me go all the jokes, meant that I just crawled into bed last night rather than do the long pile of things I actually have to do. This includes getting out a lot of books for my essays, reading the aforementioned books, painting my nails, having a shower, procuring train ticket from Leuchars, print stuff off for teaching this evening and pack for going to Cambridge.

I have done none of this, despite skiving a lecture this morning. Instead, I crawled into the sweet softness of my bed again. I am too dependent on this bed. I'll say for university accommodation; the beds, possibly as a result of lots of people having pummelled up the mattress for me, are obscenely comfortable. Anyway. I should now run and have a shower and see what happens after that is terms of COLLEEN IS RUNNING AROUND LIKE A CRAZY FOOL.