Wednesday nights in...
Apr. 29th, 2004 01:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aumentouI've spent three hours tidying. Before that it was tea (toasties) and before that a mix of tidying and faffing with the pooter. The main aim of the tidying was finding my Bill Bailey ticket, which is lost, presumed hidden 'safely'* in a box in my room. The secondary aim was to find carpet. It turns out, I do have a lot of carpet, but I'm a bit short on tickets.
*where 'safe'=unfindable by burglars, potentially thieving party guests, and of course, me.
I did find a few sets of old photos, which I may persuade Blue_Jez to scan on and put somewhere, if I remember. I'm reminded just how long I've been here. It's worrying how little I can remember of it. It's been five and a half years, five houses (feels like six), one messed up degree, three temp jobs, an absolutely ridiculous number of clothes (the best of which are either knackered or no longer fit), five inches of waist size, and more Old Peculiar than I can remember. Where did all that time go, where did all the people go, why can't I remember it, why do I hurt more, and most why do I not seem to have acheived anything?
It feels like the morning after. I'm not sure exactly what happened the night before, but that's surely a bad sign. It feels like I'll find a traffic cone and an empty bottle of white rum in a minute.
What now?
(that's a rhetorical question)
*where 'safe'=unfindable by burglars, potentially thieving party guests, and of course, me.
I did find a few sets of old photos, which I may persuade Blue_Jez to scan on and put somewhere, if I remember. I'm reminded just how long I've been here. It's worrying how little I can remember of it. It's been five and a half years, five houses (feels like six), one messed up degree, three temp jobs, an absolutely ridiculous number of clothes (the best of which are either knackered or no longer fit), five inches of waist size, and more Old Peculiar than I can remember. Where did all that time go, where did all the people go, why can't I remember it, why do I hurt more, and most why do I not seem to have acheived anything?
It feels like the morning after. I'm not sure exactly what happened the night before, but that's surely a bad sign. It feels like I'll find a traffic cone and an empty bottle of white rum in a minute.
What now?
(that's a rhetorical question)
