End-of semester blues

I hate the end-of-semester blues. Life is so dull! Like the white undies you washed with that blue sweatshirt your first year, everything seems gray and dreary.

It doesn’t help that London has decided to leave behind the beautiful spring weather of the past month and dump an extra gallon of rain every minute on the sill outside my window.

I can’t even be bothered to shower, although I’m not sure if it’s my lack of motivation all around or the fact that I can’t summon enough energy to do laundry and produce a clean towel that keeps me from donning my shower-shoes and making the trek across the hall.

My bed has no sheets on it, and instead of putting on the clean ones the maid left, I just sleep on the mattress cover under my throw blanket.

I can tell by the vast expanse of naked nail between polish and cuticle that it is high time I re-paint my toes, and I know I should pluck my eyebrows, but somehow I keep convincing myself that the uni-brow, a la Noel and Liam, is “in” this spring.

I almost didn’t eat lunch today because I couldn’t make myself put on clothes and walk outside in the blustering wind to the corner deli.

My phone beeps at me every morning when I turn it on, alerting me to the new messages I have received, but I haven’t had any money on the thing for three days now, and to be honest, I don’t really care enough about who is calling me to go out and top up my phone.

Never mind the coursework that looms in front of me. I know I have a 5000 word article due in two weeks, but who really wants to walk all the way to Soho to interview a few pimps, prostitutes and strippers? Not me. Oh wait, I suppose I should explain that last statement … but I couldn’t be asked. Perhaps next week, if I am up for it.

Even this column seems a chore, and I usually love any excuse to tell my life story to a vast and faceless audience. Ok, so perhaps “vast” is a bit of wishful thinking on my part, but to the seven of you (my parents included) reading this, I say thank you.

I am a fairly happy, productive person most days, and I just don’t know what is wrong with me. It seems I have lost my inspiration, although what that inspiration is, I don’t know. Usually at this point I turn all insightful and self-analytical, but I just don’t see the point. My pillow looks more inviting than the depths of my psyche, and with that, I do believe I will take a nap. To all you other procrastination-prone sufferers out there, I say good luck on your exams. Looks as though we all need it.