Just ate the dirtiest sandwich ever.
Monday was pretty typical, woke up with onset of cold and started to feel steadily worse through the day. When it came to English club I was feeling pretty rough and pretty miserable so I decided, who better to take it out on than the kids? We were talking about English music we like, when the Spanish gayboy started putting his Spanish songs on. And dancing like a queen. I stood there staring at him rather unimpressed, when he changed it to a Celine Dion song (you know that pile of wank from Titanic). I took great delight in telling him that Celine Dion is for girly girls and queers. Amazing what you can get away with in French schools!
Tuesday was a sort of uneventful day, except for 6ème being completely in love with me and racing to my desk to come and work with me. All so keen, I’d finished within half an hour and they were all working really hard too. I spent the rest of the lesson staring at English kids dictionaries. Bliss. 3ème worked quite well too. Tuesday night I bought myself some food and some whiskey because I was feeling tellement HORRENDOUS so I drank hot lemon and whiskey from a mug I found in the kitchen.
Colin’s mug. His blue mug.
Wednesday morning. Yeay, woo, day off, etc. I was still up at 9 because I felt like rubbish. On my way back from the kitchen, Colin saw me strolling around. He asked if he could talk with me a bit. Could I use headphones for Skype after 11pm? Yeah, sure I can mate, sorry I didn’t realise I was so loud/you were always asleep at 11pm despite the level of noise you manage to make pottering about and playing playstation late at night. Still, yeah, course I can use headphones. Also. There’s a massive pile of washing up that keeps getting bigger and bigger and bigger. Is it me? Because the others say it’s not them and it wasn’t like this before.
Oh really? Despite the letter pasted on the kitchen door dated September 28th 2010 detailing the horrendous state of the communal areas, in particular the kitchen? Despite the fact that I rarely eat breakfast there, I never eat lunch there and probably have my dinner there about three times a week? And I only ever have stuff that goes in the oven, so none of the pots or pans could be my fault?
Averaging three plates a week apparently makes me responsible for everyone else’s washing up, it would seem. I told him – I had three plates to clean that I had put there the night before and forgotten about whilst I was tidying my room, and the rest was down to someone else. He doesn’t believe me. I don’t care.
Third thing. His blue mug. I cannot use his blue mug. It is his. It’s precious to him. His blue mug. Funny how he didn’t tell me the blue mug belonged to him before I used it though.
After a couple of hours chilling in my room I decided to go do my “devoir” for the week which is the kitchen. I did EVERYONE’S washing up before cleaning all the surfaces, inside the microwave, a vinegar splat from the wall, and the passive-aggressive note Colin had left about his blue mug. He thanked me whilst I was sat in my room. Cheeky git. I’ve half a mind to buy all my own shit and keep it in my room.
We had a room inspection, which consisted of “is your sink alright?” then I went out. I bought myself a mug so my weirdo housemates can’t bitch at me for drinking out of the wrong one, and some headphones for Skype. Wednesday night was spent playing with my new headphones and mic on Skype.
Thursday, my cold is still really bad, so I’ve been to work first thing and after having a lesson cancelled I went to a pharmacy up the road and bought some medicine. It had made me drowsy, hence this blog is bare shit. Bear shit. Rargh.
I need to go AGAIN to find the lady to sign these damn documents for my flat what I hate. I tried looking on the bright side, then it got a bit cloudy over there too. The only good thing about it is that I’m not often there.
I want to come home.