There are few things in my day to day life more terrifying than being in a situation where a bathroom may not be easily accessible. When a flatmate has a small party/large gathering without my knowledge, I go into hyper anxiety mode. I wait for no toilet. There are two in our house, however, one is an ensuite attached to said flatmate’s bedroom, upstairs and not really accessible for myself, not for the party going public.
That being said, other people in my house, drinking, while I’m not around to make sure nothing goes wrong, is also moderately terrifying, because I’m convinced that they will destroy/steal/whatever my many books on the lounge shelves, my huge beautiful 21st birthday present atlas on the coffee table, or our flat ‘mascot’, Cornelius the T-Rex. And, of course, there’s no way that I’ll go mingle with these unknown creatures, partly because prior interactions with flatmates’ friends in this particular home of mine, have proven them to be any combination of yuppie/blokey/bitchy/commercial-lawyery/accountanty/take your pick of adjectives that don’t really meld well with my ‘I’m a book buyer with an English degree and goals of having several novels published one day would you like to see a picture of my pink hair or listen to my Dresden Dolls CDs?’ persona.
And the boyfriend is currently gaming with a friend, so all I can hear in our room, apart from the so-called sociable noises from the other room, is their talk of Saints Row, and the sound effects of the game. So concentration of the ‘lets do some writing!’ variety is somewhat shot for the night – save for the angsty blogging variety. So, my solution, after far too long spent playing Civilization V (the first game I’ve gotten into on a reasonable level since my Sims obsession of yesteryesteryear), is to internet, and contemplate continuing reading Specials by Scott Westerfield – the third book in the ‘Uglies’ series. The writing’s not amazing, and the protagonist’s a little… dull, at times, but the concepts are intriguing, and since a teen-oriented dystopia is on my to-do list, I have the perfect excuse.
First, of couse, I’d better hit the painkillers. Especially as it sounds as though more party-goers have arrived…