My Mind Has A Mind Of Its Own

So I’m walking back to my hall from Tesco’s, and when I pass the computer room I decide to pop in and send Russ a free SMS to update him on my efforts to find us accommodation in Paris. Where we’re going on Friday, by the way. I think I haven’t mentioned it here yet.

So I sit down, sign into a terminal, and am just about to open Netscape (UCL computers only run Netscape. This pleases me greatly) when he calls me. This is just another one in a long list of Freaky Telepathic Russ Moments. Maybe I should actually start keeping a list of those, just for interest.

It’s actually rather stupid of me to be writing this here, because when he reads it he’ll nag me about having been on the computer instead of doing the ten million other things that I should be doing instead. And he’ll be right. Dammit.

Oh, before I go, a conversation fragment. I was in my hall common room looking for some of my French hallmates to ask them something about calling Paris:

Me: Johanna, have you seen anyone French around today at all? As in, people from France, not people French kissing.
Johanna, giving me a strange look: No. As in, to either question.

Why does my mind work like this? Stop embarrassing me, mind…