I've been bitten by a spider.

If I don't post for 3 weeks, you know my leg's become infected and fallen off (because a lack of a leg would stop me typing, naturally.)

Housemates are strange people. I should know, I've lived with a couple.

One who sticks in my head is a girl, S. S was nice enough - she wasn't my friend, she belonged to another member of the house. She did have one disturbing obsession though.

In a fit of girly giggles we had stuck attractive, half naked men up the stairs (posters of, not real, worse luck) just to brighten up what was, essentially, a dossy student flat. Imagine our suprise when returning home one day (in time for Countdown, naturally) when we saw a new picture on the stairs.

A picture of S's dad.

A signed picture of S's dad.

Does anyone else think that's a little bit odd?

I got caught in the rain this morning on my way to work. In a fit of Blue-Peter-do-it-yourself-with-a-roll-of-sticky-back-plastic-ness I wrapped a cream pashmina around my head.

"That's ok." I thought. "I look a bit like Grace Kelly."

I got into the office and looked at myself.

Less Grace Kelly. More drowned rat with matching soggy accessories.

I have an excuse.

As a good friend blogger pointed out to me today

"If you've got a life, you don't need a blog"

Hey, she said it, not me.

Honestly, I feel bad for the lack of a post over the last couple of days. So, just so as you feel you're completely up to date with my life. Have a quick run down:

• Hours worked: 48
• Cups of tea drunk: 14
• Glasses of wine consumed: 3
• Cigarettes smoked: 40
• Rugby matches played: 1
• Tried scored: 1
• Hospital visits: 1
• Painful painkillers given (don't ask): 1
• Slings given: 1
• Days sling worn before becoming fed up and realising that actually, no one on the train/tube cares if you're injured or not, they'll still wallop you: 1
• Newsletters edited: 25
• Paracetamol popped: 8
• Lusty dreams: 0
• Times been stood up by N in favour of the sound of music premiere: 1
• Covert conversations on gmail: many
• Rants: 3
• Strops: 5
• Genuinely happy days: 0
• Days neck has ached: 3
• Bars of chocolate eaten: 1
• Dreams of packing it all in and leaving: countless
• Mysterious conversations with boss about possible job offer: 1
• Times I have berated myself for not blogging: 0

P.S. 20 points to anyone who can guess the relevance of today's picture

They were all there. David, Jonny, some chavtastic woman in a pink shell suit. Oh, and me and N. Jonny and I got on well. Very well. Nothing happened but I was being a bit of a flirt. Giggling. Touching his arm, playing with my hair. I could feel N's heavy gaze on me and I felt a twinge of guilt. He had a forced smile as he sat there surrounded by these luminaries. I noticed him there alone but in my selfish daze I ignored it.

I woke up with a start.

I am in one of those situations where I am so tired that I cannot work but I am so busy that I cannot sleep.

I never normally have problems with sleeping. Show me something semi flat and warm (or not in the case of camping in Henley the other year) and, much like a cat, I will sleep there.

Not recently. I tried to do a check list the other night and figure out what was what could be stopping me sleep:

• Bed - yes
• Duvet - yes
• Comfy pillows - yes
• Sufficiently dark room - yes

All that was fine. Then, I tried to think what could be keeping me awake:

• Potential psychopath in cupbaord - no cupboard therefore no psychopath
• Yelping foxes outside window - nope, chucked stones at them very early into my occupancy. They know who's boss.
• Unputdownable book that had been put down - no, haven't read one of those since the last Jilly Cooper
• Something I'd forgotten to do - can't remember so doesn't bother me
• Hungry? Thirsty? Sober? - who are you kidding?

I am at a loss.

Any ideas?