near-asleep, i am stirred by the flatmate creeping into my room. her voice, grizzled with her like-clockwork monday hangover, eked out a plethora of whiny "mattson?"s. i managed to annefrank my neveryouminds before her ginger head popped into the room [phew] and timorously asked, "can you do my a favour?"

--[[ugh!]] what?--

"well..."

--just spit it out. [[double ugh.]]--

"go down to the corner[[opposite-end of our block][store and pick me up some food. i'llbuyyoufood,whateveryouwant,domethefavourpleasepleasePLEASE!?!?."

now that i was awake... --sure.--

so i sluggishly went, picked up the damned food and gatorade [[which will only make her hangover worse cos i'm pretty damned certain she has a major gluten intolerance going unchecked]], decided to pocket the change cos i have a small helping of chana masala [[made better than anyone's ever made it before cos i have a sixth sense whenst it comes to making indian-style fare]] for dinner and dragged my tired arse homeward.

and now that i'm up...

will take my pocketed change to the cafe across the street for $3 pints of awesome local brews, do the NYTimes sunday crossword puzzle and draft a lifemap with detailed limbs and routes to how i could have ended up anywhere else but here wherein i have my ex's former- co-worker/downstairs neighbour as my "high-maintenance"-is-much-too-kinda-word flatmate.

hopefully, i will find a second wind for califone & the manchurian candidate [the original] by 7pm.

cos i loveth the califone.
and remain ever-indifferent-as-always to olden-timey-days film.

[[though a "chilling" angela lansbury might just be enough to get me to stay for the film.]]

[anywhere but here.]
[[cos i'm in utter hate of flatmate for the moment.]]

i reckon had i been more-asleep and more-aggressively woken and coaxed... there'd've been blood. ...and a drunk milkshake. ...despite my lactose indifference. ...just for the shear pleasure of spiting her lethargic life.