London has been BRINGING IT the past few days. It's like the city knows we only have so much time left (*sobs forever*) and is being ridiculously nice in an attempt to convince me to stay. If only it worked that way. I will just be incredibly angry for the rest of my life that I was not born British. Curse my many ancestors who crossed the Atlantic. Why did they do that? Look at your life, look at your choices.
I'm not saying the weather's been so nice that last weekend I went to the same park twice in three days but... that happened. I also saw Buckingham Palace in the daylight for the first time, and it was just as unimpressive and simply-rectangular as it was at night. But we also saw flags, MANY ducks, and pelicans (sidenote: Pelicans? WTF is that, England?) so overall it was a quality excursion.
I have been wearing a rubber band on my wrist that I stole from work for probably about 36 hours now. Is that weird? Probably.
But the nice weather didn't stop with the weekend though, and having to stay inside ALL DAY on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday was mild torture. Especially when my friend texted me asking if I could leave work at 3 and go to the park with her. My heart literally broke when I had to say no. My co-workers might have heard it. But they already think of me as the odd American intern who tries to laminate papers without plastic and asks if addressing packages is the same as in the states. Altogether, an accurate picture.
Also, I didn't realize quite how pale I was until I was skyping with my friend who just spent his spring break in Costa Rica. Even on webcam the difference was extremely noticeable. One week in Latin America turned him about seven shades darker than a semester in England has made me. Whatever. I rock pale.
Except I miss my freckles. Freckles are cute, right? I like them. Plus, in German they're called "Sommersprossen." SO ADORABLE. Whoa, I also miss German. Why must I miss things?
Of course it was nice again today, so I adventured with some friends to find a library I need for a paper I have to write. After a little stint of almost getting lost, I tried to ask the middle-aged guy at the front desk a question, only to have him tell me, "Before you even start, your answer is: Sorry, I'm married."
So that happened.
And then we saw a very attractive boy on the tube. I thought that was a detail that deserved to be included.
Sorry this post had no organization. Plots and outlines are not my thing. Ranting is though, and I excel at it. GO BIG OR GO HOME.