January 11th, 2007
It's twenty past seven, dark, and I'm in the computer lab after three hours' sleep.
My umbrella is broken.
And I am leaving. A puddle.
Fuck today. I'm handing in my essay and going home.
ETA: All page references located, and footnotes and bibliography organised, even if I had to input the last few via the 'Insert Symbol' console since my exhausted keymashing freaked the keyboard out and I couldn't get Word to stop switching back to Cyrillic every time I started typing LSDKFJ'SF;ARGH and then it's Thursday and I had forgotten that the Spanish office is CLOSED ALL DAY THURSDAY SDF;GLDFEORPIT;AAAAARGH and then the professor wasn't in his office so I just gave the empty department the finger and broke all regulations by sliding the thing under his door and I don't care because IT IS GONE FROM MY LIFE.
I am so tired I can't walk in a straight line, but it is too early to go home without being yelled at for skipping class - which, frankly, *points up*. I am not capable of sitting through more consecutive hours of class than I have had of sleep. Even if I am only damp, now, instead of dripping (though probably contracting pneumonia as we speak).
It is my strong wish that I had my mobile with me, so that with the aid of its trusty alarm clock, I could sneak off somewhere quiet and have a nap, and wake up in time to go to the Robin Osborne lecture this evening. Because: Robin Osborne!
But I have no idea where my phone is.
Life.
a) fugly, or
b) overpriced and only available in the colour you don't like/too small/too big/no sleeves/men's sizes/annoying ringer sleeves, etc.
SO.
[Poll #904689]