Mike has a deadline tomorrow. Usually this involves him playing Muse at high volumes, drinking constant streams of tea and working all night.
Tonight, though, he decided to come and work in my room on his laptop.
All very well, you might think, since I am glued to my land law textbook. We didn’t particularly disturb each other, I played good music, and read the occasional boring legal anecdote to him.
Then he had to print said deadline just as I finished land law textbook (Did you hear that Stevens? NEVER AGAIN) at half midnight. He’s left his memory stick at home so has no way to print the assignment. And guess who he gave his floppy discs to?
That’s right, your very own Billygean.
We eventually found them under the bed, having slipped behind the drawers (the ones that I broke, evidenced by the fact that anything can slip behind them).
He is currently clutching the floppies, muttering sarcastically about things he’s found (candles, MP3 player, tampons, batteries, diclophenac tablets) and folding my clothes.
Sigh.
