Pizza

I ordered a Pizza over the phone yesterday, and I was v. v. pleased with myself. I don't like phones you see, and so phoning up and ordering a pizza was something of a feat for me. When we arrived at Dominoes however it turned out I'd ordered from the wrong place...

Fail :(

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Let's have a go at this.

Just set up email posting... Testing it :)

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Sent from my iPhone

So, all week I have had a dilemma: Do I, or do I not, buy myself a new laptop/netbook?

Some of you may know I have my lovely little (not really little... quite huge in laptop terms really) red Dell Inspiron 1520 . Problem is that it doesn't want to run properly a lot of the time and the battery lasts little over two minutes, and that's only if fully charged and on power-saver mode. So anyway, I thought:

Let's buy myself a new laptop, why not. I earn my money and therefore, logically, I should spend it as I please.

But, me being me and me being the way I am with money, I decided. No, actually... Can I justify this? After hours of umming and ahhing, reserving a netbook at Argos and basically torturing myself I've decided that instead of spending £300+ on a new netbook I'll instead pay £50ish on a new battery and put up with my little laptop until it dies completely. Now, let's hope that I ordered the right battery.

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Janvier

As you may have noticed, I titled this particular entry with the french for January (I mean really, it's basically the same word). I do this because my sister today found out who her french exchange is; this will be the subject of today's rant. I, because my sister wants to have her little weekend away in France with her school friends, am obliged to give up my room so that her little French friend (who I'm sure is lovely) has somewhere to sleep... Why Mollie doesn't give up her bed I don't know. When my charming Dutch friend comes over to visit I have to give up my bed for him to sleep in, I don't see Mollie sodding off and gracefully offering him her bed now do I?

- Don't get me wrong, it gives me that lovely little warm feeling in the pit of my stomach when I do nice things for people (like when I lend my friends money so they can buy lunch, or get the bus), I have no problem with the French, and I definitely have absolutely no problem with staying at my nan's for a week. But I do like my bed. I really like my bed. And I'm not keen on strangers staying in my bedroom, where all my stuff is. I especially, and this is the real problem, hate people being in my bedroom, with my stuff, when I can't see them. I get into my room with someone and when usually looking my phone, my laptop and anything like that, would be perfectly acceptable for my friends I make sure it's all locked and unaccessible when in my room... I'm not weird. I'm not. It's just that it's my space, isn't it?

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