I'm going home tomorrow.Something to do with my passport. Its ultra freaky to head back home 2 weeks into the sem. And try doing it with exactly 24 hours notice to get tickets. All the travel agent could do was laugh annoyingly when I asked her for tickets. Apparently there is a shady guy at the railway station who miraculously procures tickets hours before the train leaves, but I'm honestly not into shady guys right now.
There is a bus that goes to Mumbai. Since I've never been known to sit out 30 minutes in a poky bus without spectacular projectile vomiting displays, 18 hours were totally out of the question.
Manged to get flight tickets for tomorrow evening .
Three days of amazingly unexpected home scented bliss. My TV is sending me happy telepathic vibes. I'm destined to meet an unsuspecting chicken soon:)
Can watch Dark Knight without having my ears combust spontaneously. And pray at the altar of Subway Chicken Teriyaki.
Vee and Dee and sick. I'm not cut out for Mother Goose type of roles. I suck at mothering sick people. Trying to make them laugh is evidently the wrong thing to do.Poor souls end up spraying goo all over you.
I figured out that if my realtionship ever had a themesong, it would be 'Scotty doesn't know'. Just replace Scotty with Aggie and sing along. I've so totallybeen had.