David, Boris and TP

Well, here I am again. In bed, alone, with cold feet. Actually, I'm not alone: I have David Attenborough's biography Life on Air, a stuffed Kiwi bird named Boris and a roll of toilet paper in bed with me.

What do these three items have in common? Well, that's an interesting story...

Years and years ago, my mother read Attenborough's book and loved it. She recently (as in a few months ago) recommended it to me as a good read and I have been trying to find it in either a book shop or at one of the libraries. On my last trip into town I found it, and have been dutifully working my way through it. I've learned a lot from Attenborough's programmes on the BBC; ours is definitely a learning-oriented household. I may have never seen a Spongebob marathon, but I can quote Walking with Dinosaurs word-for-word. (And Lord of the Rings, but shhhh.)

Boris the Kiwi bird was a gift from my boyfriend for my last birthday. His real name (the toy, not my boyfriend) is Boris the Perv, because...well...he's pervy. We had a talk about this, and he has since reconciled himself to life at the bottom of the bed/on the floor. I usually manage to rescue him, but not always. I am not thrilled when I wake up to a bird beak wedged between my boobs. Or legs. Awkward...

The toilet paper is in my bed because I have a cold. Not because I'm a bed-wetter, or have a portaloo in my bureau or whatever. I ran out of tissues earlier today and was too tired and lazy to walk to the store to replace them. (Although I did walk out of my required film screening, and I did walk to the corner dairy for sustenance). I hate having colds. I never look as sick as I feel, so I end up schlupping around like a zombie who looks like a normal, if slightly unfocused, human being. Arghh. I also sound like Yoda because the goop in my head (yes, that IS a technical term, thanks) makes me mix up my words. Thank God I don't have any presentations; it's always fun to explain to the class - with a straight face - why you sound like the offspring of Yoda and Chewbacca.

I promised the Beloved Boyfriend that I would go to bed early. And I meant to, honest. But, well, I had a little freak-out regarding my History paper (already turned in) and my half-finished Anthro and Film papers, due next week. Sigh.

Goodnight. Or rather, goobnit.
WolfGrrl