Summertime

The living is downright miserable. Today dawned like the past fifteen, minus two, with glorious sunshine, hitting twenty degrees by ten in the morning, my curtains snapped shut so I could focus on the task at hand - pages of notes that refused to adhere themselves to my brain.

Rattling on like Roast Beef, I sent out a handful of nonsensical emails crawled back into bed, notes across my knees, and read. Uselessly.

At one I ventured out, blinking in the sunshine and thinking that if I only had a pair of sunglasses I could sit outside and read my notes... but sunglasses look like shit on me no matter how hard I try to find any other kind, and furthermore I didn't have the time to waste on sunglasses at the moment. I did however, have an hour to spend wandering town with my bf, who I've been seeing far too little of lately. I guess I dont' really mention him much here, what with secrecy and non-disclosure being so popular these days, but I suppose its enough here to say that its been a few months, its still all wine and roses (metaphorically speaking, as I tend to drink things that aren't wine and am not a fan of roses in most contexts) and since I started studying and he started well... I don't quite know... its been reduced to brief lunch breaks and snippets of time between World Cup Football and forced Arts and Crafts. Fair enough, but I'm starting to miss him. And not just because my stress is beginning to manifest itself as knots in my neck and sleepless nights. Bed on the floor seems to have lost its magical sleep-inducing powers.

I walked home and started thinking about the Men=Cabs hypothesis. Marriage aside, I wondered if all relationships were based on timing. Although this one wasn't necessarily, I figured that I know others had been centred around bad timing... then again, nobody actively dislikes the idea of being swept off their feet right? Its all a bit blurry, and with the English in full effect (to the extent that G had to translate for us the other night, with sexy results... ok, Simpsons quoting aside, they were sexy...) and generally the problem with men, I have no idea whether this is a question of timing or personality. I'm hoping it was the latter, unwilling to pigeonhole myself into a place where my sunny relationship that has been making this term oh-so-lovely can be reduced to circumstance and boredom. Perhaps when I'm being irresponsible tomorrow, and while he's being drunk, I will pry.

But things are on the up and up, I was told today that I looked 'summery' and later 'fine' (the 'damn you're fine' sense, not the 'adequate' sense) in a half-joking 'I am trying not to sound insincere but fear that I do so I'm going to make this a joke' kind of way. Ah the mystery of cultural differences.