If you don't gotta wear pants, don't

Thursday proved an even more out-of-character day for me, and this change to my entrenched habits can only be a good thing. I spent more than half the day in our flat, watching BBC news, writing, and not changing out of my pajamas. Sarah and Annie had trekked off to the Tower, and even though I'd wanted to see it again, part of me was a bit too stingy to spend the 12 quid for something I'd already done. So I slacked. I had breakfast and piddled around, and it felt nice. Normally I feel pressured to get out the door, to see as much as possible, but this time round I just wanted to feel what living in London might be like. I mustered the energy about midday to head to the British Library, as part of my stated purpose in going to the UK in the first place was "research." I meant it when I said it, even if my actions didn't back me up.

I walked through the exhibits there and seeing the Beowulf text and Shakespeare's first folio was pretty damn cool. I got a library reader's card and felt accomplished. I met Annie and Sarah for Fish and Chips and instead of keeping up the momentum of seeing parts of the city I hadn't before, I went back to the flat again for some more rest. I really feel my age this time; I feel like I can't keep going at the pace my mind wants to but that's okay, I decided. I'm still in the UK, not an old grumpy woman yet, and everyone needs a resting day once in a bit.

I met Sarah later at the British Museum to see the Sutton Hoo exhibit, the Elgin Marbles, and of course, the Rosetta Stone. I really wanted to see my bog people, but that exhibit was under "refurbishment" and that was indeed disappointing. I did find a book in the book shop, however, on marble erotica from the ancient world that was pretty interesting. Sarah then went home and I walked Oxford Street - the hub for all things tourist and cheap, tacky crap stores, which (alone) find delightful. I bought some necessary cheap stuff and scarves, took pictures at Tottenham Court Road - which now explains a lot with the last Harry Potter book; this is a dodgy street to find oneself on amidst an array of otherwise lovely streets. Then I was exhausted - again. Got some pasties and sodas for us, but got seriously frustrated trying to get back home from Tottenham Court station. The Central line, I note, breaks down frequently, and in rush hour, this can only mean too many sweaty people in one underground place, waiting too long for trains that are too full. I knew I wasn't far from the flat and could walk, but by the time I planned this, the platform was way too jammed to get out. After three trains and way too much body contact with smelly strangers, I made it back and with the same feeling of stress I get at home after a hairy freeway drive.

So I stayed in for the night while Annie and Sarah went pub crawling. I really wanted to go, but had been drunk the three nights prior and wasn't up to it. So I put my sweats on, went to the grocery store, and did a load of laundry. I kind of liked it, really.