insomniac
Here was me being pretty stupid and thinking I had insomnia because I haven't been sleeping well for a while. I'd wake up at what seemed like 5 or 6am and feel pretty awake, tossing and turning, and really concentrating on getting to sleep, which had been difficult in the first place. So today I look at my clock for the first time and discover that actually it's 9.40am and that I've been fooled by the lack of sun and I really don't have insomnia at all. To reward myself, I went out and bought a kingsize duvet from Ikea.
I'm feeling pretty chuffed with myself for finding Pink Lady apples, even if they are insanely genetically modified to 8 times their normal size. Or maybe ours are modified to be small and regular. Either way, if Newton had discovered gravity with one of these bad boys, the world would have lost a wrong scientist.
I'm supposed to keep these things secret so that if I'm unsuccessful nobody knows and I can bottle my shame up in the form of an insecurity; but I'm pants at keeping secrets. So, I applied for a job in Brussels - a kind of internship... well, no, exactly an internship... with one of our MEPs, for 6 months, with a very small salary. There are several things wrong with my application - the fact I'm not qualified and have basically a tiny knowledge about the EU and Britain's policies in it. More importantly though, even if I were to be offered an interview, I'm in Russia and I'm not sure about the wisdom of jetting off to Brussels or London for an MEP to discover just how little I know about her job. That's a bridge I'll cross when I come to it. For the moment, my task is to eat this damn apple, register my visa, then hit the hermitage.
I arranged to talk with Natasha... she called me all upset and said "are you sad because I'm a bastard, right?". Not to mince my words, I answered "da". So we're going to meet and moan at each other and I'm going to let it all out. She said she had some ideas why I was upset with her, so I'll let her talk and pray she's wrong so I can laugh and say "haha, no, you're wrong and stupid and smell slightly of fish". Unfortunately that probably means no more sex and my king-size duvet will be superfluous. That could be a good thing, but I can't deny I'll miss having a good old chat about life while stroking erogenous zones preparatory to engaging thrusters.
I'm feeling pretty chuffed with myself for finding Pink Lady apples, even if they are insanely genetically modified to 8 times their normal size. Or maybe ours are modified to be small and regular. Either way, if Newton had discovered gravity with one of these bad boys, the world would have lost a wrong scientist.
I'm supposed to keep these things secret so that if I'm unsuccessful nobody knows and I can bottle my shame up in the form of an insecurity; but I'm pants at keeping secrets. So, I applied for a job in Brussels - a kind of internship... well, no, exactly an internship... with one of our MEPs, for 6 months, with a very small salary. There are several things wrong with my application - the fact I'm not qualified and have basically a tiny knowledge about the EU and Britain's policies in it. More importantly though, even if I were to be offered an interview, I'm in Russia and I'm not sure about the wisdom of jetting off to Brussels or London for an MEP to discover just how little I know about her job. That's a bridge I'll cross when I come to it. For the moment, my task is to eat this damn apple, register my visa, then hit the hermitage.
I arranged to talk with Natasha... she called me all upset and said "are you sad because I'm a bastard, right?". Not to mince my words, I answered "da". So we're going to meet and moan at each other and I'm going to let it all out. She said she had some ideas why I was upset with her, so I'll let her talk and pray she's wrong so I can laugh and say "haha, no, you're wrong and stupid and smell slightly of fish". Unfortunately that probably means no more sex and my king-size duvet will be superfluous. That could be a good thing, but I can't deny I'll miss having a good old chat about life while stroking erogenous zones preparatory to engaging thrusters.