The winter blues have hit me pretty hard. All I seem to feel like doing these days is remaining comatose in my comfy, comfy bed. This was reinforced by the fact that whilst waiting to pay for my car at the garage on Saturday I saw a cat in the reception area, curled up fast asleep on a chair. I don't think I've ever been so jealous of something that most likely spends its days chewing mice up in its mouth, but oh how I longed to be that cat!

In this moment in time things are not too shabby though. Currently sitting in the living room with Jenn and Matthew, who just this moment presented me with a margarita (complete with lime wedge and salt/snow-capped rim!), we're watching Scrubs and Gaz is stopping by later.

Our other housemate, Ben, however, dropped a sort of bomb-shell just before he left to go out this evening. He said something about needing to speak to me and Jenn as he 'may be moving out' soon. I've not ever had to find a replacement housemate before and am slightly wary of the general public (I mean, I work with murderers and they look like normal people FFS...I don't know why they don't have a murderous growth atop their heads or just SOMETHING to differentiate themselves from the rest of the non-homicidal populus). Maybe we could invite Gordon Ramsay's wife to move in with us though, as our house pretty much overlooks Wandsworth Common too.

I'm sure it'll all be fiiiine.

Being the Scrooge that I am I've refused to acknowledge any Christmas cheer so far, but it's recently occurred to me that my first Christmas party is next week. It's a Crown Prosecution Service one, which I and fellow stenographers of the Old Bailey kindly got invited to. CPS party = lots of policemen. Oh yes. Must try not to drink too much, sexually harass any of them or do anything illegal. I'm sure I can do it.

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