Housemate texted me at 12.30 last night to find out if there’d been any last-minute activity as the football transfer window closed, which pissed me off. I was already in bed, and was thiiiiiis close to falling asleep when my phone buzzed.
He was on his way back from holiday, but it wasn’t until after I replied that I thought to myself, “Why didn’t he just use the fucking internet on his phone?” I always think of the right thing to say just after it’s too late.
So last night was yet another session of interrupted sleep, approximately number 943 in a row. One of these days…
