I Wake To the Smell Of Cigarette Smoke Wafting Through the House

I'm not a smoker. I don't mind people smoking - what they do to their bodies is no concern of mine - but to wake up after a pretty rubbish night of broken sleep to the stench of cigarette smoke is not the most plesant sensation in the world.

I should explain. Yesterday was the twenty-first birthday of one of my housemates, the smoker in our house, and she had some friends over for the night. They went out last night to one or two of Winchester's finest bars and clubs - there aren't that many, to be fair - then got back at some ungodly hour in the morning and I don't think they've even considered having even a few moments of sleep. All they've done is talk, listen to loud music and smoke. From the smell of it, the latter has taken place non-stop.

I shouldn't complain too much I suppose. This is a rare occurance. Smoker usually keeps it to herself in her room, as this is technically a non-smoking house and I know that my other housemates, Media Nurse and Third Year Psychology, aren't too keen on the smell either. Plus it was Smoker's birthday yesterday. We all bought her a present - one present from the three of us, we're students and poor, plus Christmas is coming and we do have shopping to do at some point - we got her some hair straighteners. Well, I got the straighteners from Argos - the others just gave me money for them.

Yesterday was, apart from the brief excitement carried over from the 21st celebrations, pretty boring to be fair. I should have done some work - I have an essay on Shakespeare coming up, plus a timed exam - or at least done some writing. But I was facing a dead end with the book I am currently writing - working title of The Witch Sister - so I just stayed in and watched three episodes of Buffy and watched two films by my favourite director, Tim Burton - Nightmare Before Christmas and Corpse Bride.

But as I was getting ready for bed after watching the third episode of Lost Series Three last night it hit me what I had to do. Thing is, I'm extremley enthusiastic when writing, but I've realised that I've been too enthusiastic with this particular story. I've revealed too much too soon. Where's the mystery? I'll have to do some major revisions I feel. That's after I get dressed and do some research in the University Library. Oh, and I have to read Edward II for tomorrow's lecture/seminar. And I have Alpha Course tonight. Plus Grey's Anatomy is on.

Maybe I'll wait until tomorrow. I don't think I've got a lot to do tomorrow.

Laters.