Rewind my life a day or two. I was so happy. For instance, my Sunday kind of kicked arse.
I woke up around midday. I know, great start. Picked up the newspaper, saw my favourite cinema was showing a preview screening of the Proposal and decided on my plans for the day. One phonecall, a leisurely afternoon breakfast and a train trip later; I met Michelle in the city ready to show her 'round my hood. We stopped in the supermarket to stock up on sugary snacks for the cinema before getting a train to Northcote.
I should take a moment to talk about how great Michelle is. She's a rural student living in the city on a scholarship so she lives in a room off campus the size of my thumbnail and she has back problems to complicate things further. And she is the nicest, most upbeat and easy-going person I have met. She says adorable stuff like "the only thing I don't like about international students is that they leave" and when asked whether she has preferences for dinner she says "I'm open to new flavours". And when I call her at midday on a Sunday asking her to a movie that afternoon (which I prefaced with "it looks deliciously awful") she gets just as excited as I am.
So Michelle and I went to this movie and actually laughed with it, not at it, and got all mushy (as girls tend to) when it's all over and walked down the stairs from the theatre raving about our favourite parts. I took her across the road to get a drink and chat and we covered pretty much everything from school to family to friends. We giggled and chatted at the train station until her train came to take her back to the city. And then, because the train station was dark and quiet and forboding, I started dancing on a bench to Walking on Sunshine.
I had reached dangerously high levels of psychitude. I was ecstatic. Assignments were behind me. My birthday's coming up. I'm young. Woooo!
So writing about this gave me a sort of thought. Let's pretend Monday didn't exist. Ditto Tuesday. All there is: a phenomenal Sunday afternoon.
Oh, amusing moment recollection. When Ryan Reynolds removed his shirt, the cinema was silent until a particularly obnoxious teenage girl in one of the back rows (who was boldened, perhaps too much so, by large amounts of sugar and hype) called "Oh yeah." One clue: it wasn't Michelle.