Wednesday

OK, so I had "the talk" with my female housemates last night - the "I will move out and leave you high and dry unless something is done about the living situation as it's making me sick on every level" talk. I am so glad I did. They were absolutely lovely about it (as, deep down, I knew they would be) and already the house feels nicer. They said that in return I had to spend more time around the house and less time at Uni, which might be a bit difficult but I'm definitely going to make the effort. Hopefully I'll be going out for a couple of drinks with them tonight which should be really nice.

On another note, I'm pretty happy because I sent a draft of my next assessed translation for my Spanish Golden Age Poetry module and my professor seemed to really like it already, and I've still got the weekend to polish it (in between James's birthday celebrations).

I was very, very frustrated with my Mozambique class today. It was given by a PhD student with whom I have fallen mildly in love. However, no-one in my class would say anything about the (wonderful) text we're studying. Except me. Which makes me look like an idiot and a know-all. Argh. Half of them hadn't even read the damn thing! My professor said that I shouldn't expect this sort of situation to change until I'm doing my own PhD. Immensely depressing.

I've started reading the next text (Balada de amor ao vento by Paulina Chiziane) already and it seems great already. She takes the exoticist style used by vile patronising colonial writers (José Alencar, raise your hand) and turns it on its head. Very interesting.

I've got an appointment tomorrow with the nurse to have an ECG because my heart has been feeling decidedly weird recently. Kind of nervous. And terrified that she'll weigh me. I've managed to avoid my scales for a good amount of time now and I know that whatever it says it'll be triggering.