How is it that I can arrive, as fresh as I ever seem to get these days, at the keyboard at 10pm, and yet by midnight find out that I've not really done anything I wanted to do?
Answer me that? I dare you.
I'm currently working on the idea that I'm actually blacking out over the keyboard and waking up 2 hours later.
It's either that or I'm in a cycle of terminal bad time management.
Take tonight for example.
Watched the football. I'm not even going to say much there. Nice to see Emil Heskey back and doing the job he's always had; being Michael Owen's supplier of ball. At this point I should really fess up and admit to scathing, seething bouts of vicious swearing when Iheard that Heskey was back in the team. I was wrong. I'll survive.
Of course, no matter how good they all were tonight it's terribly depressing to think that next time internationals roll round and macClaren has a full compliment of crap primadonnas who just don't seem to work in an England shirt (Lampard, Rooney et al) or players who've served well but are now inferior to younger players (yes David Beckham, I does means you)
After the football, it was up to the computer, intending to get some blogging done, do a review (or maybe two) and finally get some extra work done for school.
This week has been hideously busy at school and I've got a few things that really need doing, but no time to get them done anywhere but home.
It's now nearly 1am. I've blogged and that's that. I am shit I am.