I just took a shower, it is 4:18 pm. I've been up since 11, but I have not gotten out of bed. For some reason, my hung over mind decided that staying in bed and reading Sex and the City for the 80th time would be a much better plan than homework.
This is why I hate Sunday. I almost alway save up all my papers, projects and readings for the weekend, thinking I'll finally be able to get ahead. So, on Friday I do a little work, knowing I have the rest of the weekend to do it. Saturday, is the same, a little work, a little relaxing. Then Saturday night hits. And I drink. This ruins Sunday and I have so much homework to do, that I just stay in bed and cry a little tear for my pathetic self.
I hate these situations where you really wish you could blame someone else, but it all comes down to you. Its all my fault. And I have no one else to feel bad for me.
And now that I am finally out of bed, I am not working. I'm here. So, I think I'll go back to Carrie and Mr. Bigg and hope for dinner to come quickly.