(no subject)
Jul. 11th, 2004 01:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
changelingSo. Tired.
I hate being home, especially with family. It generally leaves me feeling blah, if it doesn't develop into something worse.
The closest I got to doing schoolwork was beginning The Butcher Boy, which I'm supposed to have read for Novel class, which will be Monday. I got about a quarter of the way through before I got mildly depressed and left off to read some P.D. James, which I inherited from Glenda. Nothing like trashy detective fiction, though I must say it's not gory or really Christie enough for my current taste.
Going to Liam's tomorrow. Not looking forward to it. Largely because I know I'll work a 10-12 hour day, and semester starts again on Monday, when I'll have an 8 hour school day, no doubt preceeded by cleaning work in Liam's house. Just remembered whilst packing my bag, in fact, that I was supposed to write 400 new words (or was it 800? I forget) of novel-ness over the hols. Have failed to do either (unsurprisingly -- bloody novel), though I do have some I can pass off as new. Probably only about 400 words' worth. It's only handwritten, though, and Liam's computer's not working, so I can't fudge it tomorrow night.
I can't find the damn notebook that I was using last term for Novel and Short Story. And I have something that may or may not be ringworm on my hip, which I'm blaming on Liam's cats. I'm going to bed. So damn tired. Have been all day. Wish I knew why.
I hate being home, especially with family. It generally leaves me feeling blah, if it doesn't develop into something worse.
The closest I got to doing schoolwork was beginning The Butcher Boy, which I'm supposed to have read for Novel class, which will be Monday. I got about a quarter of the way through before I got mildly depressed and left off to read some P.D. James, which I inherited from Glenda. Nothing like trashy detective fiction, though I must say it's not gory or really Christie enough for my current taste.
Going to Liam's tomorrow. Not looking forward to it. Largely because I know I'll work a 10-12 hour day, and semester starts again on Monday, when I'll have an 8 hour school day, no doubt preceeded by cleaning work in Liam's house. Just remembered whilst packing my bag, in fact, that I was supposed to write 400 new words (or was it 800? I forget) of novel-ness over the hols. Have failed to do either (unsurprisingly -- bloody novel), though I do have some I can pass off as new. Probably only about 400 words' worth. It's only handwritten, though, and Liam's computer's not working, so I can't fudge it tomorrow night.
I can't find the damn notebook that I was using last term for Novel and Short Story. And I have something that may or may not be ringworm on my hip, which I'm blaming on Liam's cats. I'm going to bed. So damn tired. Have been all day. Wish I knew why.
