Waking up at Golders Green after falling asleep on the 183, and it's raining. With a little snow. IN FUCKING APRIL. Not a nice way to spend a day off.
Though Jim gave me notice effective of the 14th, meaning this Friday coming is the official last day of my living on Kenton Road, Sharon suggested that I move over to her flat the day before she goes to the Caribbean; this took three days of driving and carrying up two flights of stairs (her driving, [mostly] my carrying), 15 minutes of patiently explaining to ntl that I want to disconnect from that bunch of incompetent no-narks (they're coming for the set-top box next Saturday) - the first chance I get I'm getting Sky again - and lots of early departures.
And losing just ten pounds of my deposit because of my not washing all the linen. (And leaving the milk behind... I hope they find it, because they've got my keys.)
And getting into a quarrel with that no-talent jumped-up sub-fourth-form attention-seeking asshole M@ (even his name is revolting), but enough about that. Let's just say that I've had more stress from that than from lugging the boxes over, and leave it at that.
On the upside, my CDs arrived just in time, my Cineworld card will be paid up, and it's a holiday weekend. Life could be worse. Oh, and note to Kira's Slave - there will be no links to Biel's behind. Here are links to a hopefully 16-year-old Hayden Panetierre and a definitely well over 16-year-old Aria Giovanni instead. :)
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