Every monday (it seems) I wake up, in all of my clothes, a plastic carton of shame next to me, possibly with some leftover chips in, and a BIG FREAKING HANGOVER. I have a 9 11 12 and 515 and have to struggle though them before getting one of my few evenings off, but because of the necessity of hanging-like-a-mother-bitch, I get NOTHING done.
This monday was particularly amusing because I woke up(fully clothed) in R's bed, an unusual development, that I think was a bit of a foregone conclusion due to him mentioning wanting a 'cuddle and a spoon' when we were watching ratatouille, not from me specifically, just anyone I think, which is something I am VERY fond of so clearly in my bottle of wine, and two quaddies state I decided it was a good plan to sleep on his bed. PANIC PANIC happened when I woke up, but I quickly calmed down and realised everything is fine, and nothing happened. He's a lovely guy, one of my best friends at uni but after persuading me to come to klute (!!) with him he seemed a bit on edge, squaring up to a few people and the like, so maybe he just needed a hug.
HUGS ARE AWESOME, the average woman needs to be 'touched in a non-sexual way'/hugged EIGHT times a day to feel loved by their friends. I think, sometimes, living with boys I don't get my full quota but they're usually receptive if I go and demand a hug which is nice :) I shall bake them cookies just because I love them soon.
No comments:
Post a Comment