I think I might just have had the worst day ever in the history of suicidally horrible days.
Everything was alright until four o’clock when I had a maths lecture and workshop. Being my reading week, I have fewer lectures than normal (fewer than lots still being many). The first hour went great; I actually knew what I was doing despite having missed a lecture last week. Then we got the results of the assignment we were given a fortnight ago. Thirty-five percent. Pass mark is forty. Bugger.
I spent the next hour alternately debating slitting my wrists and downing a bottle of vodka. My mood was not helped by the fact the workshop overran by about fifteen minutes. Went to dinner in the foulest mood ever and as a result of me being late, got the vegetarian option to choose from. Was okay really, but what I wouldn’t have given for a proper home cooked meal at that point.
Decided to get it out of my system by going to a bike ride. Viciously cycled into Beeston and decided to nip to Sainsbury’s to buy myself a nice bottle of wine to cheer myself up (and yes, before you point it out to me, I do know that alcohol is a depressant). Paid for my wine and got back to where my bike was tethered only to discover I had apparently lost my keys. The key for my building, for my room, for the bike shed, for my bike lock and my computer lock. Not only would this mean me having to walk home and hope my roommate was in, but it would also cost me about £30 in lost deposits. I am a poor student; £30 is immense riches to me.
So there’s me, running around Sainsbury’s looking like a tit, looking for my keys, nearly in tears because it’s a half hour walk home in the dark and I don’t even know if I can get in when I get back. Thankfully, my keys weren’t lost but on their lanyard around my next. Instead of in my pocket like they usually are. Wonderful. This really helped with me feeling like an complete and utter tit.
Cycled home with my bottle of wine, which coincidentally is something I am never attempting ever again. Was absolutely paranoid about dropping it. Managed to get halfway home and successfully navigate a main road and around about with bottle still intact. Only when I got back to University Park and thus five minutes from home did I drop the bloody thing. Made quite an impressive smash actually, but at that point I was really trying my best not to cry. Cycled off and round to the lake to sit and sulk in the dark and to the only thing a girl can do when she’s having a bad day; ring my mum.
Turns out she was having an equally crappy day and together we lamented out mutual lack of wine.
Finally got back to my room (which smells of disinfectant due to me cleaning the new modification to my ear) and discovered that, despite my protests to the contrary, I really am a typical student. Somehow, and I fear I will never be able to explain it, the detritus from my late night instant noodle snack the other day had managed to plaster itself all over one of my nice shiny new (and very expensive) text books, and all over my bed. It’s the last time I’m ever eating those noodles because it looked like someday had vomited in my bed, it really did.
After all that I did the only possible sensible thing and now I have a bottle of Lambrini coursing through my veins. I swear its stronger than it used to be. Or maybe its cos I haven’t drunk much since I came to university that its affecting me more (and here I still hold the moral high ground on me not being a typical student). Or maybe its cos I haven’t actually drunk the stuff since I was fourteen, but it was cheap so who’s complaining?
Am now really looking forward to going home on Thursday. I don’t care how old I am, all I want is a hug from my mum. And a bottle of wine. And watching Mark Harmon on the telly with a tube Pringles.
*sigh*
