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Today I woke up someone else's house with no hangover, but few memories of the night before. (Last night included the consumption of much creme de menthe and an entire bottle of whiskey between myself and my friend.)
Got home, had some yummy quiche, encountered an issue with Zelda- Phantom Hourglass, didn't manage to take the nap I'd hoped for, and then had a nice long bath in lavender-scented bubbles.
Then off to campus to use the internet, as the flatmates are both missing, and the one whose computer I normally use has taken it with him on his jaunt to London.
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The noblest sentiment I have encountered and the most passionate political statement to stir my heart both belong to a fictional character. Why do we have no politicians as pure in their intent and determinedly joyous in their outlook as Arkady Bogdanov of Red Mars?
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