these are the days of miracle and wonder
Feb. 20th, 2007 05:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravenEither I'm ill, that is to say, have caught some sort of mild flu from my flatmates (who are passing it among themselves in some demented game of hot potato), or am moderately depressed again. I'm hoping for the former, but really, it could be either; I spent the weekend absolutely unable to work, do anything productive or indeed concentrate on anything for more than five minutes at a time, and couldn't sleep before five am. Ick. But that said my actual headspace isn't too bad; I'm just mildly irritated at myself for being incapable of doing anything, and a tad grey, like the weather, so I'm not sure. Last night I got to sleep fairly early, but didn't wake up until ten to eleven. With a tute at eleven in college, this was not good. I made it, though, earlier than my tute-partner - who is always late for everything - and Rowland, my very nice History of Philosophy tutor asked me if I was all right, with the sort of undertone that indicated he'd been quietly informed about my issues from a few weeks ago. I sort of mumbled that I was fine, made a mutely sleepy idiot of myself in the tute, and came home and went back to bed. I couldn't bring myself to get out of it all afternoon, which is somewhat unusual.
But I guess I am all right, ish. It's perhaps just been illness, on top of a few nights of not sleeping, on top of the first few weeks of term, which gave me the sort of scare which won't go away in a hurry. And as well as that, it's been one of those weeks, the ones where my tell-me-all-your-problems beacon is pulsing overtime, and I've had a lot of people lately spill their woes to me with the help of peppermint tea and grey afternoons. Which is okay; I'm sufficiently recovered to be able to handle other people's problems again, but I think my tolerance level is a little low at present. It'll get back to normal. Yeah, I'm okay, I am.
I spent yesterday afternoon in London with Pedar, which was just wonderful. It was so, so good to see him. He just listens, gives gentle advice that it isn't incumbent on me to take, and artfully steers the conversation off onto something interesting, something funny, something else, and it all comes out okay. It was very refreshing. We wandered around Bond Street looking in shop windows and drinking coffee and laughing at tourists, and talked about life, the universe and everything over dinner, and he apologised for not having got me anything for my birthday. I am now the proud owner of a pretty new handbag and red diary, which made me happy. In addition, I now have a bag full of clothes that I have been missing since January, and can, at last, go longer than three days without doing my washing!
I got back home about midnight. Claire was pottering around the kitchen, and informed me that yesterday was still Sunday, really; she's ill and sneezy, Pat and Liya ridiculously overworked, Ben on a two-day post-musical comedown that has left him very lost, Maria yelling to anyone who'll listen about the idiocy of her psychology tutors, etc., etc. Basically, I was the only one who'd had a good day.
Although, there was one event I was sorry I'd missed. Pat was using all the pans, according to Claire (I said, "She was using four pans at once?" and was shushed), and Ben wanted a poached egg. Claire's mum apparently poaches eggs in the microwave. So they placed two broken eggs onto a plate and put in the microwave.
It was fine at first. The clear stuff started going white like it's supposed to. "But then," Claire said, waving her hands about, "BOOM!"
There is still yolk dripping off the roof of the microwave, despite their best efforts to clean it. I do wish I'd seen this.
Tonight, I'm supposed to be draped on the floor with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jacinthsong and withiel watching new Life On Mars, but this is not happening, partly due to my own disorganisation but really mostly because of Sky. He has this new tendency to swan in from London as if he owns the place and demand entertainment. Argh. Rant on him another time. Anyway, I think I'll have to help Claire entertain him if at all possible, and miss LoM on television again.
And do some work, possibly. I managed to sit down for an hour and work this afternoon, which is a lot better than I've done in a few days. Hopefully the trend will continue and all of that.
But I guess I am all right, ish. It's perhaps just been illness, on top of a few nights of not sleeping, on top of the first few weeks of term, which gave me the sort of scare which won't go away in a hurry. And as well as that, it's been one of those weeks, the ones where my tell-me-all-your-problems beacon is pulsing overtime, and I've had a lot of people lately spill their woes to me with the help of peppermint tea and grey afternoons. Which is okay; I'm sufficiently recovered to be able to handle other people's problems again, but I think my tolerance level is a little low at present. It'll get back to normal. Yeah, I'm okay, I am.
I spent yesterday afternoon in London with Pedar, which was just wonderful. It was so, so good to see him. He just listens, gives gentle advice that it isn't incumbent on me to take, and artfully steers the conversation off onto something interesting, something funny, something else, and it all comes out okay. It was very refreshing. We wandered around Bond Street looking in shop windows and drinking coffee and laughing at tourists, and talked about life, the universe and everything over dinner, and he apologised for not having got me anything for my birthday. I am now the proud owner of a pretty new handbag and red diary, which made me happy. In addition, I now have a bag full of clothes that I have been missing since January, and can, at last, go longer than three days without doing my washing!
I got back home about midnight. Claire was pottering around the kitchen, and informed me that yesterday was still Sunday, really; she's ill and sneezy, Pat and Liya ridiculously overworked, Ben on a two-day post-musical comedown that has left him very lost, Maria yelling to anyone who'll listen about the idiocy of her psychology tutors, etc., etc. Basically, I was the only one who'd had a good day.
Although, there was one event I was sorry I'd missed. Pat was using all the pans, according to Claire (I said, "She was using four pans at once?" and was shushed), and Ben wanted a poached egg. Claire's mum apparently poaches eggs in the microwave. So they placed two broken eggs onto a plate and put in the microwave.
It was fine at first. The clear stuff started going white like it's supposed to. "But then," Claire said, waving her hands about, "BOOM!"
There is still yolk dripping off the roof of the microwave, despite their best efforts to clean it. I do wish I'd seen this.
Tonight, I'm supposed to be draped on the floor with
jacinthsong and withiel watching new Life On Mars, but this is not happening, partly due to my own disorganisation but really mostly because of Sky. He has this new tendency to swan in from London as if he owns the place and demand entertainment. Argh. Rant on him another time. Anyway, I think I'll have to help Claire entertain him if at all possible, and miss LoM on television again. And do some work, possibly. I managed to sit down for an hour and work this afternoon, which is a lot better than I've done in a few days. Hopefully the trend will continue and all of that.
