I like my flatmates, which makes a nice change. In the second and third years of my degree, I absolutely HATED the people that I lived with. I might revisit those years with you another time, but they aren't important at the moment.
My room is almost finished, décor-wise. I’ve got some Britney posters up, my shoe rack is fully stocked and I bought a giant mirror today.
Looking at it, now that the aforementioned mirror is displayed in my room, it isn’t actually as massive as it felt when I was lugging it around town for two hours this afternoon.
When I went to get it, I was anticipating a much smaller box than the one I was given. I’ve never had a brilliant sense of perspective (or a good grasp of measurements), and this just proves it. When the description said “50cm x 50cm” I thought it sounded like a fairly modest size. Perfect for slinging under my arm and getting on with the rest of my shopping.
NOT SO, DEAR READER.
What “50cm x 50cm” actually means is “not big enough for home delivery, but certainly too awkward and heavy for a bus journey.”
That being said, it's the perfect size for my room. I just hadn't thought things all the way through.
Being a modern woman – capable and independent and all that stuff – I carried on regardless. I continued shopping because it would take far more than a mirror to keep me away from a shoe sale, I can tell you.
Even though I was coping, let me just explain to you what the world saw AT THIS POINT – a small blonde woman, overladen with bags, carrying a large mirror that was clearly too wide for her teeny tiny arms to cope with.
Do you know what the world did with that information? NOTHING. NOT A SODDING THING.
Anyway, when I finally decided it was time to give up and go home, the automatic doors at the bus station were broken, and so I was required to open them manually. Obviously unable to do this, I enlisted the help of a twenty-something hipster who had just finished his mentholated cigarette. When I asked him if he could please hold the door open, he actually and literally SIGHED at me. HE SIGHED. AS IF I HAD RUINED HIS RIDICULOUS DAY.
If my arms hadn’t been so tired, I might have strangled him.
I continued to be annoyed when NOBODY offered me a seat on the bus, despite the mirror situation, and I had to wait until some IDIOT third years got off the bus BEFORE I COULD EVEN TWEET ABOUT IT.
And if you're getting off the bus in less than two stops anyway, SURELY you should be allowing the poor sap with heavy bags AND A GIANT MIRROR to have your seat.
That's not even chivalry, is it? It's common courtesy.