Does eldritch mean uncomfortable?

Equal Rites, Mort, Sourcery and Wyrd Sisters by Terry Pratchett, The Gunslinger by Stephen King

 What do the above books have in common, you might wonder? Why, they’re the books I’ve read this week. Well, over the past four days, at any rate. Okay, so I haven’t finished The Gunslinger, but by this time tomorrow I will have. I honestly cannot recommend so many books to a single person in such a short space of time. My brain is firmly lodged in Pratchett’s Discworld and who knows when I will be thinking “normally” again.

I had a back log, you see. I don’t know about you, but I despise back logs. They prey on my mind. I was innocently sitting, looking at the endless queue of books on my shelf that I fully planned on reading one day, and just felt so nauseous. I vowed to read through as many as possible this week. Five is pretty good going. A couple of the Discworld books are re-reads, but I’d forgotten what happened in them. Now that my brain has been re-introduced to Mort, I remember why it has always been one of my favourites.

Anyway, back logs. I hate the buggers. I also have a back log of video games, but whereas a book can be read in a handful of hours, epic RPGs take decidedly more time. Like Magnacarta, the PS2 game I started playing in 2005. That’s four fuckin’ years ago. Granted, I’ve been neglecting it…it’s not my fault its so boring and tedious. But a game never goes unfinished. I made the mistake of looking up a walkthrough for it the other day, confident that I would be near the end, only to discover that I am only on part 12 of 40. 40! FORTY! FOUR TEA! I will be playing this game for the rest of my life.

I’m in the mood to clean today, which is unusual. I’ve hoovered my room (managed not to murder any socks this time), and had a MAD RECYCLING SPREE which was utter chaos and devastating to observe. The flatmates, if they even notice, will be all “ *KAPOW* oh my life, where has all the recycling BACK LOG gone?!?!?! ”

On that day, I will bow until my forehead smacks off the floor.

I really want to clean the kitchen, so that our cleaner will have a shock in the morning upon realising there is nothing for her to do. I don’t want to clean with other people around, though. It’s not that I don’t like socialising with the flatmates, they’re nice people, I just have nothing to say to them, and if they catch me scraping their mouldy plates of pasta into the bin, they might heroically try to stop me. Or offer to help, and expect a conversation as they do so. I’m cringing just thinking about it.

I think I’ll stick some quality pop music on and tidy up my own room a bit more, instead. There is a pile, nay, a MOUNTAIN of washing that is glaring at me from the corner, and I could also do with clearing off the top of my fridge. Seriously, if there is space, I will fill it with junk.

And on that note, I’m hungry. I have no food. The student life crushes me with its poverty and general lack of nutrition. Woe is me.