small victories

I am so busy all the time at work these days that all I want to do at the weekend is sleep, play with the cat and perform the small domestic duties which make life worthwhile. Tragically I am easily led astray and my house remains unpainted, my gym unvisited and my kitten unfulfilled.

After last Friday's mayhem I swore I was not making plans for this weekend. By Saturday afternoon it was established we were going to go for a quiet drink at the pub round the corner with my housemate, but that I was definitely not going to Sherwood to see our friends, no way. By 9pm on Saturday I was sitting in a pub in Sherwood wondering exactly what I was playing at but adamant that I was definitely not going to town, that I would just get a taxi home.

By 11pm I was sitting in a bar in town, unable to see speak or stand, having spent literally all evening talking to the same guy. Talk emerged regarding going to Stealth, and it was decided (by me) that I definitely wasn't going to that notorious drugs-pit as I hate dance music.

By 4am I'd walked home in protest at the Stealth-notion, in the company of the tallest man in the history of the world. I didn't get a good look at his face until I added him on Facebook this morning.

I did manage to dye my hair this Saturday though which is a small victory, I suppose.