Last night I dismantled my wardrobe and put all my clothes in a suitcase and some bin bags, and have put them in the cupboard in the hallway. I changed my bedclothes and put as many of my belongings under my bed as possible. I was going to give up halfway through but amazingly, I didn’t (progress). Now my room looks nothing like ‘my’ room. But it does look very spacious. Why have I done this? When we get a new housemate, they will have my room, and I will have #3’s room, which is much larger. So my room has to look nice to entice a future housemate. But it made me think: why do I have all these belongings? Do I really need them? Maybe I should put all my clothes on ebay.
The phones are broken again in the office, so we have some peace and quiet. It’s a hell of a lot better than yesterday, when some stupid bint called up about thirty times and called me a slut.
I’ve really hurt my hip. I’ve been trying not to moan about it but it’s actually very painful. It didn’t hurt first thing this morning, but I’d only got into the next road before it started to really hurt, and by the time I got to work, it was pretty uncomfortable. Looks like it’s another trip back to the King’s College Hospital physiotherapy department for me then…
#1 and I were discussing how although our lives are not great (as in, we’re poor and have shit job prospects), at least we are not 17 any more. This whole line of thought was sparked off by some texts from my youngest brother, who’s split up with his girlfriend. Poor poppet. I can’t think of anything worse than being 17 again. Actually, I was trying to figure out whether being 17 was worse than being 16. Now that really was a shit age. Absolutely nothing good happened. So I suppose the only thing I can say to my brother is that it does actually get better (this tends to coincide with leaving home = freedom), and that 17 year old girls are stupid anyway (I know I certainly was). I’m sure he’s really appreciative of those words of wisdom. You’d think with my infinite wisdom and life experiences, I’d have something more insightful to say. I bet you all wish that you had me as a big sister.
Hmph. There’s nothing worse than not being able to help people. It keeps happening to me. I really want to be helpful but apart from making stupid jokes and generally being inept, I’m not really achieving my goal. For example, just now, my friend cried in the smoking room and I just held her hand and sat in silence.
This entry sounds really miserable but I’ve only just started feeling like that. I was actually quite perky earlier. Maybe my delicious lunch will cheer me up (some ryvita, as part of my I’m-22-now-and-need-to-stop-being-so-fat plan). Or maybe not. On the plus side, a friend bought me a bag of Konditor and Cook truffles for my birthday, so I might just screw the diet and eat chocolate all evening.
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