Say No

In which she made a wish

The day was long to start with: class was at 8.

I had to wake up at 7 so that I could go and wake my housemate because she sometimes misses her alarm.

I woke up at 7 and couldn't swallow.

Ah. Yes. I have a cold now. Excellent.

But nonetheless, I dragged my sorry ass out of bed to go greet my housemate who would be very sorry about getting out of bed. In fact, very unwilling to function.

But someone has to drive. Obviously, not me.

Class it was. Struggle to stay awake it was. Huge struggle it was. Huge world war. Huge.

My sniffles started in the middle of the day. I looked longingly at the time, willing it to be six so that my bed would be temporally closer.

(When you live a college life, you measure distance temporally.)

Nope. 2pm. Consultation. Meeting.

4pm. Lecture. Exam's in 2 days. World war 2 happened. I lost.

The poor lecturer saw everything.

I reach home at 7 and as I am unlocking the door to my room, whilst struggling to garner enough oxygen to keep up basic mental faculties, the part of my brain that stopped working made a wish.

It went like this:
'One day, when I open this door, I proclaim that there will be someone waiting for me, to surprise me.
He shalt have in his right hand, the cure for the common cold and in his left, one pint of  chcolate haägen dâz ice cream.
We shall cuddle.
It will be awesome.'

There was no one there.

My condition dictated there be a compulsory period of illogical disappointment. My halfway dead brain conceded.

I was even more disappointed because there was still dinner to be gotten. The bed was in the same room... and approximately 2 hours away.

Fishsticks. I just want a hug. From a solid male body. With an okay face. And an aura that says 'safety'.

Oh gosh. I am so tired.