Just a forewarning that if you think I'm sulky and moany then don't read this post cos it'll only confirm your views and make you roll your eyes...
It's not too promising, sitting in my bedroom surrounded by absolute chaos; half packed suitcases (3 at the moment), half drank cups of coffee (9 at the moment), half read books (6 at the moment) and just general rubbish which hasn't made its way to the bin. And somehow over the next 4 weeks it has to come into some sort of order. However, my restriction is not time, rathermore my credentials as a lazy arse. And the motivation of university isn't quite enough to get me to move, as I am more frozen with fear then fuelled with excitement.
Next week is the final arrival of the "piss and shag holiday". Despite recent news reports advising to run as far as possible from the place we are going, my quest for sun would extend to the dangers of the sun itself and therefore I'm going to ignore the *cough* small dangers of the place we are going.
I think I should probably be worried that the only remotely sunny item of clothing I own is age 6-7, from the days before just looking outside made me cold. But life (and financial supply) is too short to do much, so I will make do with my one bikini (which I have owned for a year and a half and worn once) and spend the rest of the time in bed.
I'm also worried about my Euro supply; note to self: 50 year old mothers do not understand that a night out costs. I am also worried about my lack of bikini body. Or more the fact that I am just too lazy to de-fuzz, moisturize and fake bake. And as for the wobbliness, it'll only get worse through the week with alcohol and crisp consumption so I may as well embrace it. And I say that with less sincerity then I think I've ever said anything.
So just this week to get through, trying to make some halves into wholes and trying to make myself semi presentable for wearing exposing clothes.
Then 2 weeks after Greece to spend worring about more things. I was a bit scared I was going to explode with worry so last Wednesday I wrote a list of things worrying me just about starting uni (not even mentioning stuff at the moment or stuff abou Greece or stuff before or after uni). 44 things. Although I just keep trying to point out to myself that at least I'm going to the uni I want to go to with 44 worries, not some craphole I've been dumped in through clearing. And as long as I don't think about those 44 things then I don't feel too much like I'm going to shrivel up and die. But that's why those 2 weeks are so dangerous, too much time to think about them. See, I really do worry so much that I worry about the amount I worry.
Anyway I'm still in my PJs and it's 6 oclock so I'm thinking I should make myself look like I've washed even though I'm actually a smelly beggar. So I'm gonna go and sulk and be negative while I dry shampoo my hair and listen to songs about rain and bridges and wonder how I'm gonna cope when I'm in this sort of mood and am in Sheffield, 3 hours away up from anyone who gives a damn.