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Oct. 8th, 2007 01:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolI have had a perfectly lovely weekend. I did lots of dancing - oh, God, I missed dancing - and I did lots of work and I watched Robin Hood and nested throughout the house madly because I may be the only one that cleans but I actually find it therapeutic to do so, so, you know, can't complain.
However. The next few days are very, very bad days for me. I have got to somehow get a presentation finished in the next twelve hours and make it honours standard (whatever that is), watch all of Braveheart sober and read up on the fucking thing as well, go to work, sort out DocSoc stuff, look forlornly at the postbox that should contain my internet and my Amazon order for uni stuff but doesn't due to the bloody postal strike and somehow I have to do this all on a period. My mum is also going into hospital tomorrow for an operation, so I'm feeling pretty twitchy about that as well despite my constant internal reassurances of "It's fine! It's fine!" It should be fine, but, you know, comtrary to common opinion I quite like my Mum (admittingly from a distance of about 200 miles a lot better) and I am worried.
I am trying to be nice and calm and logical about all this, but don't push me, because I may go mad and try and kill you, possibly with my copy of The Shorter Pepys whilst shouting "I'LL GIVE YOU FUCKING FREEEEEEEDDDDDOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!"
However. The next few days are very, very bad days for me. I have got to somehow get a presentation finished in the next twelve hours and make it honours standard (whatever that is), watch all of Braveheart sober and read up on the fucking thing as well, go to work, sort out DocSoc stuff, look forlornly at the postbox that should contain my internet and my Amazon order for uni stuff but doesn't due to the bloody postal strike and somehow I have to do this all on a period. My mum is also going into hospital tomorrow for an operation, so I'm feeling pretty twitchy about that as well despite my constant internal reassurances of "It's fine! It's fine!" It should be fine, but, you know, comtrary to common opinion I quite like my Mum (admittingly from a distance of about 200 miles a lot better) and I am worried.
I am trying to be nice and calm and logical about all this, but don't push me, because I may go mad and try and kill you, possibly with my copy of The Shorter Pepys whilst shouting "I'LL GIVE YOU FUCKING FREEEEEEEDDDDDOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!"
