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May. 26th, 2006 11:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolI like the fact that the only three people to post on my last entry were male, (although one is happily married and the other is happily together with a very male partner - what does that day?) and Katie. NO MORE NAKED COLLEEN FOR THE FLIST.
Last night, I did most of my packing, and went to bed very early, which was quite blissful. I was stil knackered when I got up and cleaned the Union by myself, although when the oher cleaner turned up, I rambled at the porter ("My Dad is going to be here soon and then I have to drive home!" This is technically true, but I may have made the timeframe about 24 hours shorter than it actually is) and then left at 9.50am.
Those 10am lectures are going to be a blast next semester, aren't they?
It is now nearly half eleven, and my room is pretty much cleared, excepting the posters on my walls and the rug. I have cleared out the kitchen and am apparently missing one small plate and lots of cutlery - shopping for me with the massive wages I will obviously automatically get. Is there a job that pays £10 an hour for watching TV, possibly?
And now, I should go and clean the lounge. It will be a horrific task of death, but it needs doing. Also, it gets me out of doing the kitchen. I deliberately got rid of my stuff very early this morning, because I keep my bits of teh kitchen pristine, and I'm not cleaning for everyone else. NO.
Also my dad will be there in four and a half hours and I need to be more or less done for then. Shit.
The basic conclusion is thus: I Am Moving Out. And the packing and stuff distracts me from the fact that it's bloody tragic. I don't want to leave my room, which I customised to my way of thinking and decoration. Fife Park is... well... cheap. And I know that it's what you make of it, but I'm going to miss living by the sea. It's pissing it down today, so I can't do the beach walk I was planning on. *sighs*
Ugh. I've been up for hours, and I want to go back to bed, but I know I'm too busy. Argh!
~Hathy_Col~
Last night, I did most of my packing, and went to bed very early, which was quite blissful. I was stil knackered when I got up and cleaned the Union by myself, although when the oher cleaner turned up, I rambled at the porter ("My Dad is going to be here soon and then I have to drive home!" This is technically true, but I may have made the timeframe about 24 hours shorter than it actually is) and then left at 9.50am.
Those 10am lectures are going to be a blast next semester, aren't they?
It is now nearly half eleven, and my room is pretty much cleared, excepting the posters on my walls and the rug. I have cleared out the kitchen and am apparently missing one small plate and lots of cutlery - shopping for me with the massive wages I will obviously automatically get. Is there a job that pays £10 an hour for watching TV, possibly?
And now, I should go and clean the lounge. It will be a horrific task of death, but it needs doing. Also, it gets me out of doing the kitchen. I deliberately got rid of my stuff very early this morning, because I keep my bits of teh kitchen pristine, and I'm not cleaning for everyone else. NO.
Also my dad will be there in four and a half hours and I need to be more or less done for then. Shit.
The basic conclusion is thus: I Am Moving Out. And the packing and stuff distracts me from the fact that it's bloody tragic. I don't want to leave my room, which I customised to my way of thinking and decoration. Fife Park is... well... cheap. And I know that it's what you make of it, but I'm going to miss living by the sea. It's pissing it down today, so I can't do the beach walk I was planning on. *sighs*
Ugh. I've been up for hours, and I want to go back to bed, but I know I'm too busy. Argh!
~Hathy_Col~
