So far, this week has turned out to originate from that hot and warm place that the mythologies say exist somewhere below us. I haven’t had time to do anything beyond the torrent of revision and coursework that we’re supposed to be doing. My attempts to climb off the hamster wheel has morphed into running it at double speed now at the end.
When I come home after school I’m so knackered that I basically just curl into a ball in the hallway until Mark comes and prods me with the broom stick and say I can’t lay there. I don’t see why not. It’s a perfectly appropriate spot. Even Watson comes and lies down with me and tries to chew on the shoes, or on me. Or he tries to lick my face, but considering where his tongue was five minutes before, I manage to resist enjoying that.
If it was just the revision and the coursework and the homework, it would be one thing. But this weekend it’s the Leaver’s Ball too, and yours truly has become the go-to person for everything that is clichéd into belonging to the resident homosexual. While delegating the flower arrangements to the girls would be sexist, there’s no compunction about delegating it to the homosexual. That means that the free time I have is spent shouting at people who aren’t doing their jobs properly. Like with the flowers, which were supposed to be delivered today, but which was nowhere to be seen anywhere.
Then on top of that is the usual drama that seems to plague my year. Ben has a girl now, and spends his time pulling leaves off daffodils to find out if she loves him back or not. Abbie may have been outed to his parents, so he swings between the need to throw himself into the river and diffident bravery in the face of expected disaster. Stephen is pouring his heart into his pint at the moment, questioning his life the universe and everything. Yes, he has girl troubles. His latest isn’t living up to his desires and refuse to snog with him, and thus his eye is wandering, and then he feels guilty about that.
And me? I wish I could report any drama for your benefit, but apart from being worked to the bone, and seeking refuge in the shoe rack at home with the dogs, there is little to tell – which is why this blog is horribly neglected at the moment. I will remedy that, eventually.