...take a bath, prepare to be in bed by 8:00pm, because all you want to do is read the frigging Cosmopolitan, and this doesn't really work out. Why?
I switch my light off and prepare to sleep. I did: a slipped into the deepest sleep I've had for a while, and wake up because, wait for it, My. Bed. Was. Shaking. I haven't blogged about the ghost that haunts my bedroom for a while, simply because I haven't had any problems. Perhaps I was dreaming, but all I remember is being petrified out of my wits.
Then a friend phones me. She's freaking out because she's borrowing her boyfriend's old phone (hers was stolen over the weekend - story of our lives), and she found a whole lot of reminders from his ex on the phone. In the background, I vaguely hear the doorbell ring, but I'm still half asleep and listening to my ranting friend at the same time.
Third World Ant bursts in to tell me Small Bum is here.
It's now 11:00pm.
I am in my grottiest pyjamas, I have a giant zit on my cheek, I look like shit. He walks in with a bunch of pink roses under his arm.
I was blown away. He just decided to do this on his way back from seeing his mates. We chatted for a while and he went home. I cannot believe how lucky I am right now.
I had a stern chat to the ghost, just in case it was shaking my bed, and fell asleep.
Ghosts, car accidents and stolen cellphones aside, I am such a lucky bitch.