I am...

Gleefully partaking of free broadband Internet and luxuriating in the aural cacophony provided by the serendipitiously sourced Last.fm that is mainlining the Foo Fighters straight from the Internet direct onto my abused vestibulocochlear nerves.

I am sitting very very very straight because I am woefully aware that the rare running and horseriding of the past few weeks have not been enough to offset the sudden sedentary nature of my lifestyle, exacerbated by some serious junk food cravings (all fulfilled) and in my current hypergylcaemic state I may throw myself into the Swan if I see the muffin top which doubtless looms (the sugar makes me impulsive).

I am lost in dreamy thoughts of flying home in less than week (Dog! Hooray! Boy! Hooray! No car! Meh.) and I am navel-gazing and wondering if my humiliating newfound appreciation of Fall Out Boy’s videos and the fact that I am cravenly, pathetically Team Edward all the way is not a sad testament to the fact that my maturity is receding like a fat man’s hairline and I need to spend more time with people who were old enough to have watched Thundercats.

I am wondering if I can stomach eating Waldorf salad for 5 days straight so I won’t have to cook during the entire exam week.

What I am NOT doing is studying my arse off.

I am so dead.