So I've gotten this eight week old kitteh. I'm not going to say her name because I think she has been incorrectly named. I will never use the name my stupit brother and sister have given her. She is either Kitteh, or The Cat.
She has these tiny little claws that have now scratched every inch of my body. I look like an emo kid.
But she is sooooo adorable, so I can't stay mad at her. She's a little wriggly scratchy thingy :)
Its slightly depressing that she's the only good thing about being back in Finchley. It just doesn't feel like home any more. East London is a shit hole; but at least its something. Finchley isn't rich, but it isn't poor. Its not even in-between anything. Its just, Finchley :/
I reckon I'll perk up once I get back to the flat. Drinks on Monday has been motivating me for the past two to three weeks or so now.
On a more positive note, I still have a fair amount of credit on my phone. Hang on, changed my mind, that's no positive...
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