Welcome to Monday afternoon, home of the bored and the lost. So far today I've half-slept through all of my classes (a very useful talent to have), dreaded my six am tennis lesson tomorrow - how awful is that? - listened to a shiteload of music and watched an hour-long episode of vampire diaries, not to mention the tons of chewy I've worked my way through. A very unhealthy addiction, but one I can't seem to shake.
Has anybody ever noticed that it's a maths teacher's prerogative to be balding? Is there like a rule about that, or something? Even the women are balding. Do they have a course at uni where they teach you to pluck the hairs out at your crown or something? I always thought being a teacher would be drag, but seriously. That's taking things a bit far.
Well, I was supposed to go running this afternoon, but somehow in the scheme of things that seems to have spiralled irreversibly down the proverbial plughole. On the up-side - we're doing a Valentine's Day dinner swap, even though technically the big VD was yesterday (which I spent with a block of snack chocolate, the new CD by the Fray, and a season of Vampire Diaries). After three weeks of nothing but female contact, not counting the guy who offered to buy me coffee when he nearly knocked me over on Sunday (that might have been a pity vote) the dinner swap where we go to the boys' school which would normally be worthy of at least a couple of hours of moaning has morphed miraculously into something, sad as it is, to be excited over. Maybe I'll finally get to meet Yellow Shorts Boy - although I might have to ask him to take his shirt off for me to recognise him. No great loss. My nine-year-old self would be disgusted.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.