It sucks

Month anniversaries appear to bring with them an increased probability of things going wrong. Take yesterday, for instance. Not only was my throat still hurting like fuck, but my stomach had decided to give me gyp too. Throw a serious conversation (inspired by Amy) into the mix, and it's safe to say that I've had better days.

After my afternoon problem class, by which point I was thoroughly sick of enzymes, I popped home for half an hour to pick up a spare pair of tights for today. I'm not sure if the knowledge that I wasn't wearing the same outfit two days in a row was worth the two-hour round trip, but hey, I had the time. My lunch had been a portion of mango, so I bought a waffle on the way back to Imperial and ate it whilst jammed between commuters on the Tube. Next time, I think I'll just have a small one. Without all that cream.

I'd arranged to meet Rikki in the Union after his meeting, but bumped into him walking down to the Tube station: thanks to his hangover, he hadn't remembered where he was meeting me and neglected to text me, so it's just as well that I have the gift of good timing. He had to rush home because of his doctor's appointment; I sat in the waiting room and wondered if the pamphlets on domestic violence were implying something by putting Arabic writing on the front.

Then we went to Sainsbury's to stock up the fridge, Rikki received a USB keyboard vacuum cleaner as a late Christmas present, we had a serious chat- I hope things are going to change as a result of it- before Cat came home, we all watched the latest episode of House, and went to bed. I missed my first lecture to try to get some more sleep, only to be woken up at half seven anyway. Rikki felt sick, so I left him in bed. I believe he's still there now.

February's not turning out so well for me.