Time exists but just on your wrist so don't panic

1480 words to go on a subject on which I have no opinion. I do not give a damn about the conspiracy, nor whose account is more useful. I've got little postit notes and highlighters. Pens and notepads. The barest sketch of a plan to a plan. Goddamn I should have started sooner. Instead there's been DIY films, peanut butter, pillow fights, feeling sorry for myself as I sniff into mugs of honeyed water, too many other things to write, I was supposed to link up the gamecube for Julie but I can't remember where I put that cable (please don't be in the cable bag, nothing ever gets found in the cable bag) this is going to be a drag. One full day left to get this done and at least I finished reading the texts. My fingers get distracted so easily. Cicero was a famous orator and could I make a dress out of that NYPD tshirt? I could use that long top pattern from my book of things to do with tshirts, extend it, got enough material to do that. Ideally it should be a shirt dress with the badge above my breast and pockets? In red? Goes with the navy. But it might be a little difficult to manage a collar. And by little I mean I'd definitely have to get my mum to help. But I do have shirt dresses so there's an instant pattern and sewing in front of my mum always makes her laugh. There's a lot of bum in the air, pins in my mouth and apparently a look of intense concentration as I try to cut in a straight line.

My hair actually looks nice today. You know those mornings when you wake up feeling pretty good, because essays and everything else that drags you down are still asleep. The sun is shining (where were you yesterday when I had to go outside?!) cold is abating and I look good. And I have to waste all of this on goddamn Romans. Bleh.

Coffee doesn't have enough sugar in it but I have so little left. Very nearly put castor sugar in instead, could have been interesting. Dad tuts at me, or he would if he was awake but he tuts every other time he watches me make coffee. Talks about how I should be taking care of my body or I'll regret it when I'm old. I point out I can lose weight on a diet of beer, rice, cheese, strawberries and bread and put it on when I actively try to eat properly, soberly and regularly. Sometimes I think my body does like me.

I'd rather be writing anything but this. Which is why I am here, whining at you, the internet. I figure it's a better way of wasting time than picking at the scab on my heel or watching my triangle fade or painting my nails with leftover polish. Oh, the glamour of my life.