Oh Fuck, It's Sunday
Oh god, it's Sunday. I hate Sundays. Well, I like Sunday-day, but Sunday night is my worst part of the week. When I was at school, I'd be sitting at my desk surrounded by textbooks, head in hands.
These days my anguish is not caused by the loads of homework due for the following morning but the morning itself. Tomorrow I have a 9am lecture. Whilst those of you who have chosen the office monkey route of life may cry 'so what?!', lest I remind you I am a student who mostly does not rise before 10:30- and that's an early start. Whilst the working population is crammed between someone else's sweaty armpit and the token lunatic on an overcrowded train, I like to be tucked up under my goosedown Habitat duvet, courtesy of the Student Loans Company.
And amongst these palid grey workers, I'd like you to find me one person, just one person who actually thinks 9am Monday is okay. The world would be a happier place if nothing could be done before 11am on that particular day. No more disgruntled workers walking in with AK47s, sleep deprived and probably rain sodden, that's for sure.
So tomorrow morning, I will wake up at the bumcrack of dawn, when it's still dark- I'm morally opposed to this. If the sun ain't up, then neither am I. I will force myself into the shower, pray that the plumming hasn't gone mad and that there's some hot water.
At least I am not alone. The other 30 odd students on my course all turn up as equally blurry eyed and oddly dressed as I do, now prepared for the igloo like climate in our lecture hall. I swear I've even seen one girl with those pocket heat packets that you crack for warmth. Over the weeks, I've tried to maintain some sort of fashion dignity but as term goes on and the temperature rapidly drops, my outfits are becoming more obscure. I've recently rediscovered some Abercrombie longjohns that my mother bought me for trips to Eastern Europe in the winter (more common in my family than you'd think). I have now taken to wearing them religiously under my skinny jeans in some vague stab at warmth and stylishness but when I walk into any room above freezing, I begin to sweat rapidly.
Maybe tomorrow I'll finally kick back and wear my sweatpants. Tucked into my uggs. Whilst part of me shudders at the disgustingness of this look, the comfort monster in me can't help but salivate at the idea of cosiness.
I have vague notions of what might win.
**as I'm a fan of shameless plugging, visit halagoogoo.com. Glam rock in fancy dress, you know you want it.
These days my anguish is not caused by the loads of homework due for the following morning but the morning itself. Tomorrow I have a 9am lecture. Whilst those of you who have chosen the office monkey route of life may cry 'so what?!', lest I remind you I am a student who mostly does not rise before 10:30- and that's an early start. Whilst the working population is crammed between someone else's sweaty armpit and the token lunatic on an overcrowded train, I like to be tucked up under my goosedown Habitat duvet, courtesy of the Student Loans Company.
And amongst these palid grey workers, I'd like you to find me one person, just one person who actually thinks 9am Monday is okay. The world would be a happier place if nothing could be done before 11am on that particular day. No more disgruntled workers walking in with AK47s, sleep deprived and probably rain sodden, that's for sure.
So tomorrow morning, I will wake up at the bumcrack of dawn, when it's still dark- I'm morally opposed to this. If the sun ain't up, then neither am I. I will force myself into the shower, pray that the plumming hasn't gone mad and that there's some hot water.
At least I am not alone. The other 30 odd students on my course all turn up as equally blurry eyed and oddly dressed as I do, now prepared for the igloo like climate in our lecture hall. I swear I've even seen one girl with those pocket heat packets that you crack for warmth. Over the weeks, I've tried to maintain some sort of fashion dignity but as term goes on and the temperature rapidly drops, my outfits are becoming more obscure. I've recently rediscovered some Abercrombie longjohns that my mother bought me for trips to Eastern Europe in the winter (more common in my family than you'd think). I have now taken to wearing them religiously under my skinny jeans in some vague stab at warmth and stylishness but when I walk into any room above freezing, I begin to sweat rapidly.
Maybe tomorrow I'll finally kick back and wear my sweatpants. Tucked into my uggs. Whilst part of me shudders at the disgustingness of this look, the comfort monster in me can't help but salivate at the idea of cosiness.
I have vague notions of what might win.
**as I'm a fan of shameless plugging, visit halagoogoo.com. Glam rock in fancy dress, you know you want it.
posted by adulescent at 8:19 PM
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