Well fair.
I'm seeing the student welfare officer at 2 today to discuss my current position at university; it also seems like the ideal time to finally silence that poisonous filth residing at my abode.
It turns out that, despite the talk we had, it's still shittalking me. Same old stuff, A group of us went into the library yesterday after lunch, and there it was. Myself and Elliott (who is also somewhat averse to it) strayed away and left the group early, and it turns out that I "was stoned" during that time; also, I'm apparently a milk theif. It's childish shite like this (it's also untrue, which irritates but is apparently inconsequential) that's bringing me down. I mean come on, milk?!
It knocked on my door to remind me to put the bins out (!) and to also inform me that to drink all of its milk again would be a bad thing. Irritatingly, I don't actually touch anything that isn't mine (one doesn't know in whose hands things have been placed) - I bought milk over the weekend, drank it all (Crusha milkshake stuff is lush, by the way) and hey ho, happy ending. I told it that it wasn't me, I ain't no culprit, and it responded with "well, it's either you or your imaginary friend" before walking off. That it's been said that I slammed the door in its face is highly untrue - I slammed it as it was walking away. It was either that or bury my wall knife in its patronising, sleazy fucking face.
D'you see what's going on? it's turning fucking milk into a major drama. Elliott reckons that it has it in for me. I am inclined to agree - roll on Christmas holidays, eh?
Incidentally, I'm coming back to Manchester for a week. Lannybird has been so kind as to purchase for me as a gift marking the anniversary of my deliverance into this existential plane a return coach ticket, marked the 18th of December, and returning on the 22nd. It is unsure as to whether I will have the necessary funds available to me in order to go out for Christmas drinks on the 21st - I am currently using the money reserved for December's rent payment to survive. However, as much as I hate birthdays, my one concession is that the bulk of my requested gifts are monetary, which will replenish the financial stocks, or at least should do. I need to pay the mobile bill, as well as the aforementioned rent. It's awkward, as well, coming back; I've agreed to look after a friend's two pet fish over the holidays as I'm going to be here all time. I'll have to buy one of those block things that disperse over a week, we used them whenever we holidayed back in the Pechitto and Mehicae days.
So at 2pm today I'll be discussing my future at the university with someone who's paid to listen. I hope I finally reach some kind of conclusion, I'm sick of being sad and poor.
I'm sick of being so poor.
posted by Cos Ryan @ 11:10 AM
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