Chink.

I spent most of last night throwing up the Chinese take-away I’d eaten ridiculously late (I went speed-flatmate-dating with a friend – I’ll explain another time).

I didn’t wake up this morning; I was already wide awake and over-tired.

I’ve only been working for 3 and a half weeks and I’ve had to call in sick. Oh dear…

Food poisoning twice in nearly two months? That’s hardly fair.

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Rodents

We have a guinea pig called Jude. His cage sits on a table where the TV should be. We’ve not bought a TV yet…

Under the washing machine we have a family of mice. They run wild and free at night, munching away quite happily on the trays of poison we have dotted around. Sometimes, they have the audacity to run across my bedroom floor, popping up from the hole in the carpet where the radiator pipe protrudes. Sometimes, they poke their heads out from under the washing machine and freeze, stock still, until we make a move towards them and they shoot back to safety. Sometimes, they’re not quick enough – we have now caught three of the little fluff balls. They ain’t half quick.

The sonic mouse scarer had no effect (in fact, I am sure it’s playing 90′s pop music at mouse volume because, since plugging it in, the problem has increased). The poison appears to be having no effect on their population. I have amusing mental images of them being entertained by the blue colour of the wheat grains, pulling faces at each other, saying excitedly “Look, it’s made my tongue go blue!” (much the same as a 14yr old does after drinking their first WKD).

The landlord has been informed. The company that manage our building has been informed. The local council has been informed. I have written a string of complaint emails, each with it’s own bespoke anecdote: “My flatmate is currently in the lift transporting a mouse in a tupperwear box out to the allotments next door.”, “As I type, I am being watched by a mouse hiding under the dishwasher.” etc. All ending with lines similar to: “I am sure you can understand that this situation is unreasonable.”

Either the council will visit, inspect, and then serve a notice on the landlord, or the management company will stick a firework up the Private Pest Control Company’s backside. Fingers crossed for the latter; the former will drag on forever.

Cope.

I spent last year thinking that, despite being told I should be stressed, I wasn’t stressed. I could cope.

I’ve been told this year is going to be even more stressful. This week I couldn’t cope.

Because it happens so rarely, I panic when I’m stressed, which doesn’t help.

On Friday, we went to the pub after work. I drank my own body weight in cheap white wine and can’t remember how I got home. It’s been quite some time since I’ve been that wasted. The Boy has told me off – “You can’t do that to me. You can’t make me worry about you when you’re so far away from me.” and is annoyed at my workmates for letting me get so drunk and not making sure I got home safely. It really wasn’t a healthy thing to go and do.

I’m off to run 10miles. Wish me luck.

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