I might have lived my life in a dream, but I swear, this is real.

I’m surprised I haven’t done this yet. I have a vague excuse, but not a noteworthy one.

This morning I woke up, earlier than the other person in the room – a normal occurence at every sleepover I’ve been to since I don’t know how long. I stayed where I was for a fair while – people are comfortingly warm when they’re asleep, or half asleep, or whatever he was. Perhaps he was awake and just lying around like me.

I tried to nudge him out of bed at some point, but he was so tired that he wouldn’t budge. So I went downstairs, picked up my laptop and a few chocolates and played around til he woke up. My mother came downstairs in a bitchy mood at one point and we both made a run for it – I needed to get to my father’s house, and Rhys needed to get home. We caught the 273 to the city where Rhys got off, but I stayed on whilst it magically became a 239 and took me to my father’s house. My dad’s car wasn’t out front, which concerned me – I hadn’t told him I was coming, and so he might have left without me! I went inside and was pleased to find him, my grandma and a hyped up little kitty. Uh, might not have been that pleased about the kitty.

Kerry and Holly had taken the car to go to Blockbuster or something, and returned about ten minutes after I got there. Dad made Grandma a sandwich for the bus, and he, Kerry, Grandma and I left for the beach. The initial plan was to go to a cafe, but we soon realised we were out of time, and drove back to the bus station in the city. We waved Grandma off as she got on the bus for Mt. Gambier, and we drove back home. Kerry, Holly and I sat on the couch watching The Mexican, whilst Dad did things, one of which was making me a brinjal pickle, mushroom and steak sandwich (which was excellent). And then Dad drove me home, and here I am, wearing Rhys’ abandoned jacket.

Yeah, my life isn’t that entertaining, but whose is?