Our House, In The Middle Of Our Street

Note to self: buy pair of gloves, chop fingers off. My hands have gone a slightly alarming colour. Am sitting in a housemates room in as many warm clothes as I could bring myself to wear. So just thick socks, baggy jeans, long-sleeved top, thick jumper, heavy winter coat... I'm contemplating putting the hood up. He's the only one with internet access at the moment, as the project to network the connection and split the costs has stalled a little. Of course, my hands weren't looking entirely normal before, anyway, as I got bored in a Java lecture and drew floral leafy design stuff all over my left hand. Except that's fading now, and it just looks kind of odd. But anyway. It's very. Very. Cold. This is all due to Luke's solution to making sure he doesn't ever lock himself out his room. Which is to leave his window open the whole time.

I was slightly skeptical when I heard this. The windows are about the width of my arm, and the height of my forearm. And they don't open fully. Apparently it's quite a sight to behold, Luke getting in through one of these windows. Sort of a throw yourself bodily through and acrobatically remove annoying appendage limbs from where they got left behind. All the while hoping you tumble onto something soft. I'm on the 1st floor. I cannot express how joyous I feel that this precludes me from ever having to attempt this stunt.

I can understand the motivation, however. Accomodation started charging a £5 fine for each lock-out after the 1st of October. Because the world hates me in some sadistic way, the day I managed to lock myself out had to be the 2nd of October. And the guy on the phone used up my credit spending several minutes just laughing at me.

The world really does hate me. Maybe hate is too strong a word, but it seems to take an unattractive amount of pleasure from my pain. Found out today that most of my probability module is, in fact, statistics. I'm not going to start on about that. If I start, I'll never stop, and I did actually have a point to this post. Suffice it to say that I used up roughly a page of my notepad in this morning's lecture simply writing "I can't do this" over and over. Conclusions drawn from this: my handwriting is really messed up.

Anyway, I wanted to introduce you to the housemates. Because it seemed a good idea when I thought it several hours ago, and even though it feels slightly daft now I come to it, I'm going to do it anyway.

Guy on the left is Luke. And the supersized cigarette he made himself. Next guy is Dom. Then there's the happy couple, Mark and Cat, who managed to get together in the time period of about two weeks of us all moving in. And last but by no means least, are the two squatters we seem to have acquired, the first of which is referred to as "Steve" and the second of which is known as many glorious things. They both seem set up to stay on a fairly permanent basis.

There are 3 others that refused to be captured on film/digitally. Laura's never around anyway. Then there's also Emma and Rich. Not quite sure how they managed to escape. And me. But it's going to take a lot more psych work before I post photos of me up here.