spica

This last week was HELL. Living hell. Or dying. Or whatever. I'm just so happy it's coming to and end... It's really funny how doing things you really like can be so exhausting... And still worth of a nice complaint.
A friend who moved to Spain a few years ago came on "vacation" some time ago, and I had to organize my schedule very carefully to spend as much time with her as I could. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE her, but... If she was staying for a whole month, did she have to wait for the last week to tell me she was here?
Monday was my day for homework as she was visiting me on Tuesday. We had an excellent time Tuesday, and Wednesday was her birthday. The problem is I have classes on Wednesdays (from 7 to 11 PM). WHO IN HER RIGHT MIND HAS A BIRTHDAY PARTY ON A WEDNESDAY NIGHT???
As I said: I love her, but while she is on vacation I have school, work and house chores to do (sure, she was a little boy... but she's STILL on vacation).
I arrived home at 4 in the morning after her party, and the following day I had to hit the gym. And of course, whatever I had slept that night, just wasn't enough.
Friday was shitty, since I had classes really early in the morning and I'm not a morning person at all. And when I thought "Alright, today I'm finishing the much procrastinated work"... my friend invites me to see her that evening.
I just said I couldn't. I had to work, but most importantly: I had to sleep. On Saturday I was going to the gym again, and I had to work some more. So on Saturday I went to the gym, only to come home completely broken. That's what humid days do to me and my foot.
Took a shower, went to work. Here I am, just back.
This is all to say to you nice people that I'm SOOO sorry I couldn't reply your messages!!! I read them all but I just couldn't find time to reply any of them! I promise to get back at you as soon as I can!

So here's when I sigh and start over, but with better news.

Friday night. Instead of partying like any other girl would, I came back home to lay dead on my bed after the killer week. As soon as I got off the elevator I noticed there was something in front of the apartment door. Something that didn't look like the usual bills and stuff, but more like a... parcel? A terrorist bomb? As I lifted the thing and found my keys to open the door I thought of two things:
a) The guy who delivered the mail is a complete asshole, leaving it on the floor like that. I'm really lucky my neighbours are honest people.
b) No way, he shouldn't have... I told him he didn't have to!

So what the heck was it? A present. Who sent it? Sweet ♥Dennis♥.
If I was a collected and calm person I'd say thanks from the heart and a lot of really cheesy stuff, but since I'm not: I'll freak out on the keyboard:
ASSDFSLDSLKLKSLAKSSLKSDSLKJSLKDJSLKJDSLSLDKSLDSLD
THANK YOU!!!!!!111two
What's the present? An awesome book I pretend to devour on that's left of the weekend.

Guido just called, looking for Lalo. He's just found out that Lalo had the stupidest bike accident. Lalo's fine, but this hasn't been his luckiest year so far. I'm really glad Guido called. Hadn't talked to him in ages, and it's funny how talking to him about everyday stuff can make me forget I have a headache.
But as I can't speak with him forever, I think I'll take an aspirin or two before going to bed to play some Animal Crossing. Or watch some TV. Or both.