The Illness Continues...

So I remain holed up in my tiny dorm with my throat still feeling like it's got shards of glass stuck in it despite the endless asprin gargles, hot drinks and Halls Soothers. My mouth now permanently tastes bitter and everytime I breathe I reek of fucking menthol. Oh holy cow the world is so stupid.

The timing of this bout of sickness has me wondering about what is for me one of life's mysteries. Timing. As in, why, in my last two weeks of fresherdom I am not dashing about healthily to various nightspots and such, but yet again holed up feeling like shit. Why, when I haven't seen the boyf for a week and after this week won't for three months, and want to experience as much coitus as possible, and give the poor lad a few stiffening memories of moi? Why, when I have the marathon ten-hour Summer Ball, a beautiful dress and a boyfriend who will look unbelievably fuckable in a tux?

I could cry I really could. The only good things that have happened to me today are the guarantee I shall get a double bed in the house next year (mmm, endless kinky moments with the boyf spring to mind, as well as entering the Sunday-morning sex club), and getting my hands on a bargain copy of The Book Of Proper Names by Amelie Nothomb.

During my bed-bound moments, when I have had time to fully consider how impressed boyf was with sexy lingerie surprise, I am now lusting after the following pair of shoes to further make his eyes (and other parts) pop!