Now, I usually remember everything I've done/said when out and imbibing alcohol. Thus, having quite patchy memories of last night is a bit worrying. Especially since I can't at all remember the conversation my head of department and I had on the way home. Could be embarrassing on Monday. Hazy record of asking the long-time but unrequited love of my life to dinner. Stupid idiot's lost my number, though, so I'll have to ring him and arrange things.
That stopped me from being too irritated today, despite the hangover and my throroughly obnoxious flatmate, who's just got arsey about me watching the Last Night of the Proms because he's convinced one can watch it on the internet. Idiot. All he wants to do is watch the end of Sleepless in Seattle on video, for Christ's sake. After all the talking he does through anything we're watching, I think I have the right to watch something I watch every year that's on live. This morning, he interrogated me about the paying of the bills (had been waiting for a new chequebook) and the cleaning of the bathroom, which he accused me of not having done. Twat. What was really insulting was that he implied I had money problems and might need to borrow some to pay the bills. Considering I earn a vast amount more than he does and don't get kicked out of my job every week or so, I thought that a bit rich.
Spent the day with Jamie, discussing both of the above and wandering round the National Gallery. He's started slicking his hair back. Oh dear.
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1 comment:
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