Rule of 3?

I can't remember when the saying passed into myth that out of a great apartment, a great boyfriend and a great job, you can only have two of the three at any one time. So when you find yourself single, in a shitty house share in London and in a mediocre job, something has to be done to readdress the balance.

I'm moving out.

And this morning, I looked around at the detritus and piles of dirty laundry and though that, with 7 days left, I was pushing it. On top of that, I also had another deadline in 14 days time for a hefty, hefty project. In fact, the word count is close to that of the word limit for a published novel.

Betfair are doing the fixed odds on it later today, being that after Friday I'm working 7 days in a row, and I have to visit my parents after then.

So if you're wondering why I haven't updated my blog, it's probably because I'm wading through the amount of tack one can collect in a year and try to figure out if it's worthy of taking with me on my life travels, and trying to type fervently whilst reassuring my mother I will make it home.

So, fingers crossed for me, eh?