I’ve finally come down from my runner’s high and I feel like I’m going to pass out. Luckily I bought a coffee-maker yesterday so I’m sending it on its maiden voyage! Wake me up!

Textual interactions with me this evening have gone a little something like this:

• No, I will not go to a seedy dive bar with you tonight; 24 hours with you was enough to make me want to hit my head against a wall repeatedly. Even if you are a professional athlete. Now come and get your sweater.
• No, I will not meet you for drinks later, ambiguous ‘friends catching up slash you want it to be a date’; it’s raining and I’m wearing flannel. I don’t forsee either of these factors changing anytime soon.