Something about Pizza Hut

Soccer today went well, even though we lost, we improved since the last time we played this team to the point that they even commented on our vast improvement. This time next year, we will totally be a force to be reckoned with. (Did that split infinitive bother anyone else? And yet, I don't change it...) I have come to the conclusion that I am falling apart. I hurt my knee in a mysterious drinking accident, my legs are already bruised to all heck from soccer, and I just simply am not good enough to get the ball off anyone without first running into them at full speed. In a humorous note, one girl saw me running towards her and screamed. That makes me happy.

More to the point, I felt that my surroundings were falling apart. The birthday weekend left my flat in a pitiful state, littered with wine bottles and rejected outfits for the evening. Laundry and dishes desperately needed me and emails were stacked up to respond to. It was time... to clean like Annika's never cleaned before. Good times. But you know what the best part of the evening was? After I cleaned like it was my job (yeah, so what if it is kinda my job to keep my flat clean), I realized I had accomplished all I had meant to, but I was still starving. I ordered me up a Pizza Hut cheese pizza and I ate it. The whole friggin' thing. Okay, so it was a small and I was famished, but I ate it while I watched That 70's Show and Will & Grace and it was like life had just fallen back into place. Is that so wrong? Pizza Hut and American TV are just a great combo.

My idea of a perfect end to a birthday weekend is sitting by myself in a clean flat with greasy food and bad TV and if that makes me a hermit, so be it. Hermits rule. Just not together. They rule individually on their own in their own special ways.