Week Fifteen

Saturday 19th April

A truly amazing thing happened this morning. After having to literally FORCE myself to perform the most unpleasant task of going for a run the first few times, I woke up at 5am literally RARING to go. I COULDNT WAIT to "lep up" out of the bed, but I had to wait until it got a bit brighter. Just before 6am I literally couldnt wait any more and sprang out of the scratcher, loaded the twins into a sports bra, threw on my gear and hit the road. I got nice and warm and then when I started running, it was just incredible. The first few times I really was teetering on the brink of death, but this time I couldnt believe how much my fitmess levels had improved and I was literally EUPHORIC flapping around the park, big retard's run on me. Returned home, triumphant. Did some gorgeous stretches (one of my many great pleasures in life) and then arsed around the house for a bit but then realised I couldnt really do anything because it was still really early on a saturday morning and so I just lay back on the bed and did some reading.

Later on, I headed into town for my monthly fix of Glamour and headed home to have my Saturday chillax. Ah, Saturdays. I love you so.

Sunday 20th April

Wake up completely stuffed up, snot factory production levels having reached a record high. Can't take this suffering any more so head into the 24hour pharmacy to get my flixonase, if they do that over here. It's around a tenner like, which will seriously damage my budget-following abilities but I seriously can't go on like this anymore. Go into the girl, who says they do flixonase, showing me the bottle which is the exact same as at home. Rejoicing, I tell her I'll take it. "24 euro" she says. "TWENTY FOUR EURO" I said "you are NOT serious". "I am" she says, and 5 mins later I'm outside the chemist, self-administering that sweet nasal spray which will end my suffering, simultaneously filled with joy and disgust. It is just ridiculous how expensive everything is over here. So I decide to console myself with a gelato. Sure you'd have to, at times like these.

Monday 21st April

A lovely leisurely day today, on top of my studies, living in Italy and generally feeling good about life. Until I go to bed and Roommate starts off with what I have christened her Bedtime Radio Antics (BRA). It is a mystery that I am struggling to solve. As she never goes outside, she just lies around the house all day listening to her phone radio through her headphones...and laughing hysterically. I'm talking about HYSTERICALLY. And because she doesn't do anything all day, she can't sleep at night so she just lies in bed listening to her radio and laughing hysterically. With me in the bed 2 foot away from her. FUMING. Flames coming out of me ears like, I HATE NOISE.

And it's a combobulation of noisy factors as well, not just the laughing. It's the tinny sounds of the radio coming from the headphones, her laughing AND her continuously pressing the buttons to change the channel. A sonic nightmare. But then I began to make some unnerving observations. Like I was like what is so funny about Italian radio? So I started listening to it and there is nothing funny about it. Like, nothing. And so then I started to strain my ears to listen to what she was laughing at in the bed. And it was a song. A SONG. And these aren't funny songs she's listening to. The other night my ear was out on a stalk trying to hear what she was laughing at and it was that new JT/Timbaland/Old Hag song, nay, abomination, 4 Minutes. And she was IN THE KNOTS. Like out loud bustin her hole laughin. Come on now. Come on. Please now. Should I be frightened? Cos I am a small bit.

Tuesday 22nd April

Awake inspired to study manically and spend most of the morning and early afternoon brewing up a serious study storm at my desk. And loving it. Usually I would only muster up a study gentle summer breeze but this was a fully blown cyclone.

Recieve text from Classmate and go into town to meet her. Apparently the French dept at Trinity want us to get 10 more credits or they'll fail us for the year. Oh dear. Head out to the villa to resolve this monstrous problem. By watching America's Next Top Model.

Wednesday 23rd April

Cue the most stressful day I have had in at least a year. Classmate and I made some apointments to speak to people who could possibly help us with our hoooge problem. We headed into town and proceeded to run from appointment to appointment in the sweltering heat. By the end of the day though, we appeared to have found a solution (thanks to Hugues), and celebrated with an ice-cream. Whoop! Then meet Empress and Denis, and Empress buys us all a friendship ring each. Aww.Strolled home in the blistering sun, thoroughly relieved and kicked back and relaxed for the rest of the night and watched La Vie En Rose. Top notch.

Thursday 24th April

Ah, my favourite day of the week! Head into Hugue's class and spend the entire two hours wondering what kind of a husband would he be. An unsatisfactory one, I decide, having weighed up the pros and cons:

Cons
1. He's not The Rock.
2. He's not very hairy.
3. He wears short sleeved shirts to work (hello Hugues? UNPROFESSIONAL!!!)
4. I bet you he wears tight underpants. Or at the very least those tight boxer man-knickers. Shudder.

Pros
1. If he was my husband I could have wanton sex with him whenever I liked (whoop!)
2. Our 17 thousand children would be trilingual because I would speak to them in English, he would speak to them in French, and we would be living in Italy.
3. On Sundays we could go for a cycle with the kids on little kiddie seats on his bike. Me with sausage dog in the basket of mine, and a little baby bump under my dress. (Wistful sigh)
4. I could have sex with him whenever I liked. (This one is so good it deserves to be mentioned twice)
5. I could make phone calls like this "Hello, I'm calling on behalf of my husband, Dr. Hugues Sheeren" Hee hee!
6. I get to hear "Jenny-fare" every day for the rest of my life.

Sadly however, all these lovely pros are totally outweighed by the giant glaring con that he isn't The Rock. Or even The Rock-esque. Or even medium build. Tough break, Hugues.

Head to Rosso San Martino for a bargainous lunch. It's this lovely little place where you can get a primo piatto, secondo piatto, dessert and water for a tenner! Amazering. Yum yum! Head home, belly full and study for the rest of the day.

Friday 25th April

Wake up and the sun is splitting the rocks, the birds are singing in the trees, a gentle breeze caressing my cheeks. Then I pull the duvet back over me arse, and that puts an end to that. Big lazy stretch and make my morning happy sounds (purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! mmmmmmmmmmmmm!) Ah, how much better can it get? Living in Italy, gorgeous weather, Hugues in the bed next to me...wait-Hugues? No, it's just Pablo my pillow boyfriend. Prince says it's undignified to sleep alone cos that's what people ain't got nobody do. But I take comfort in the fact that way over there in Ireland, there is a lonely holey-eared quantity surveyor lying in his big bed with only Pamela his pillow girlfriend for company. I bet she's rubbing her cottony mitts all over his tattooed body. Bitch!

Head to the park with Roommate and spend the rest of the day lying there reading. I was just getting into my book and nice and relaxed when out of nowhere BIFF! This tiny little puppy just ran straight into my face. Like STRAIGHT into it! Out of nowhere. And it would have been like my dream come true if his little snotty nose hadn't smeared itself all over my mouth. And he was all like "Jenniky I ran over here cos I saw you and I knew we were meant to be together" but I was like "You know it would never work out between us, puppy, you have another owner" and he was like "come on. we could make it work" and I was like "Im sorry, I wont share you with anyone else" and then he ran off, never to be seen again, leaving me heartbroken. Then this really strange person came over to Roommate and asked if he could do her portrait, and then a half an hour later he produced the MOST AMAZING portait I have ever seen in my life. "That's crap" Roommate goes. I was like "WHAT!? That is AMAZING!" And then he cycled off. Home to his underground hovel to add Roommate's portrait to his wall of "people to kill in a most horrific way and then dismember and most likely store in my fridge Jeffrey Dahmer-style".

A TERRIBLE week on the Diet front, due to the 24 snot medication binge. It triggered off a chain of indulging events which led me to be 50 euro over budget. See now? SEE! These are the dangers of such extreme diets! You starve yourself for so long that one little slip and BAM! You start going down the slippery slope, and before you know it, you've got 8 soya yoghurts in your shopping basket! Damn you soya yoghurts! Damn you to HELL!