The curse of the drinking classes has cursed me bigtime. Something involving lead tablets in the walls of a cemetary probably.
Visitors with PLANS. They looom.
Essays due. Immediately.
(New) flatmates to find. Slightly less immediately. But I fear the cupboard-opening madness.
And the bathroom tap still squirts water in wholly unexpected directions when left unsupervised.
Probably the coffee isn't helping. And I really wanted to think about that poem too.