Lafrowda in your ass: Part 1

Don't actually do that, because it's quite clean at the moment. As you may have gathered from my enthusiastic title, I have indeed moved into the wondrous Lafrowda. He's my attempt to narrate the past few days of moving:

I was up until 4am on the Friday packing like a lunatic/talking to Rachel/unpacking-repacking *shakes fist*, with the intention of waking up at 7am to finish packing (we had to get out by 10). Unfortunately, what with me breaking, then refixing my phone, the time was wrong so I only got woken up at 8.15 by my next door neighbour using the loudest selotape ever. Which was lucky. I then panic packed with no time for a shower, and thus stinking of death. Finally finished packing at about 10.58 (don't tell anyone). Luckily the previous evening I had dumped a lots of stuff at the girls house (thanks!) and even all my books and work at the department (*thrusts at his awesome idea) just so my life would fit inside my car.

Then I had to find some way to spend the next 5 hours without 1) having my life in possession form stolen 2) killing people with my stench 3) Falling asleep. Thus I use a combination of town, ritazza and the department. Exeter high street turned out to be some sort of zombie town, where all 10 trillion of the people there were moving slowly and all delinquents. Where's Bruce Campbell when u need him?

As 4pm rolled around, I wandered to get my key to be greeted by a huge queue. Which I dutifully joined, only to find I had poorly chosen the queue. After joining another queue, I got my key to my new sexy place and I was about to entry my new home for 2/3 months...