I’m supposed to be studying. I have three
exams next week. Granted, one of them will take a whole 7 minutes, but it’s an
exam nonetheless. But I don’t feel like studying. So I have spent my day
cleaning, baking, pottering around and doing some first class (and I mean first
class) facebook stalking. And now that I have fully run out of things to do, I
thought I might just write a quick blog before I head out into the depths of
winter (and despair) to go and catch up with some friends. As it happens, I am
getting exceptionally good at doing not a lot, with today being a prime example
of this.
It snowed
My delightful, and slightly concerned
mother, called me the other day. I do love my mother. She asked how I was
doing, as mother bears do. And I told her, well. She seems to have a 6th
sense about some things though… Perhaps it is her psychiatric training, perhaps
it is her maternal instinct, perhaps she heard some whispers on the wind, or
maybe she was just genuinely concerned but her next question was, ‘Steph, are
you drinking too much?’
It snowed
Now, there are many things in life that I
can’t really do. Or really can’t do. Or whatever. And right at the top of this
list is lying. I am literally the world’s worst liar. What I did manage though,
was a slightly strangled noise, no real words and a kind ‘eeeehhhhh’ side to
side motion with my head. You see, she
happened to ask me this question last Sunday.
It snowed
I would just like to clarify, before I go
any further, however, that Mum, if you had asked me today if I was drinking too
much, my answer could have unequivocally been, ‘no.’ Having not touched alcohol
since this incident…
It snowed
But she didn’t ask me today. She asked me
last Sunday. When I had somehow managed to get outrageously drunk. I remember
there a bottle of vodka appearing in front of me about half way through the night
and not a great deal after that. That is, until I heard the very final, very
sobering click of the corridor door and the thought, ‘FUCK. How did I manage to
get here?’ I had successfully managed to lock myself out of my corridor with no
phone, no keys, no shoes and no way of getting back in (which, I feel, actually
requires a bit of planning). I was most fortunate however, for I still had
socks and my duvet. After ringing the
door bell of my very asleep corridor mates and getting no response, I did what every
normal, while really rather impaired person would do… I went in search of a
couch to sleep on. It was raining outside. But out I ventured, in true explorer
mode, with my comforter and in my socks (no, I didn’t take them off). While in full stealth mode, I managed to break
in to a friend’s apartment, wake up all the residents, giving them all a rather
large fright, before putting myself to sleep on the couch. And living to die
another day. Although, I feel it was slightly touch and go there for a minute
or two…
It snowed
I don’t tell you this story because I am
proud of it (I’m actually quite mortified by my drunken-self). Nor do I tell it
to you because I think you’ll find it funny (although you might). I tell you
this story because no good story ever started with, this one time, I was sober and…
And I really don't want to study...
