bedlamsbard | at some point I started dreading my birthdays

My birthday has not begun more fortuitously than my previous worst one to date, where I spent the evening pissed off at my roommates and doing Latin homework while they got drunk, invited a stranger over, ate cake, and played board games until late in the night, given the fact that MY PIPES ARE SCREECHING LOUDLY ENOUGH TO WAKE ME UP AT 6:30 IN THE MORNING, meaning that I spent the morning of my 23rd birthday crying alone in my room to the dulcet tones of my pipes making a noise like a chainsaw. I presume this is related to how there is also no hot water in my bathroom, given that it's the hot water pipe screeching loudly enough to be heard from the hallway with the both the bathroom and the bedroom doors closed. My poor flatmate next door; if I can hear it she probably can too.

Maintenance request submitted; even if it fixes itself, I am so annoyed. And SLEEPLESS. Although I don't remember if they do Maintenance on weekends, goddamnit, I hate everything.

Well, I wanted to get up earlier, but not like this. NOT LIKE THIS.

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Through the quirk of timezones and the hour at which I am born, I am not actually 23 until past midnight UK time.

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I have a paper due Monday, which makes today even more balls. I am going to see The Hobbit for the fourth time with English flatmate N, though, if we can find the theatre. Ugh, you'd think I'd spend the fact that I was up four hours early working on said paper, but I've spent an hour and a half of it bitching and crying and changing my sheets, and now I am going to watch more Being Human and try not to cry some more.