I've had such a great week. Work has been going well. It's flat out, people still shit me to tears, and my higher-duties contract still runs out at the end of the month, but I am really enjoying my job for the first time in ages.
But love-life wise, things are even better. I had a second date on Tuesday night that went very very well. Good pizza, great conversation and some mad teenage pashing in the car afterwards. So I've been fairly floating on air for the most of the week, with a third date set up for Friday evening.
Friday night was pretty much unplanned and just completely laid back. Met him in the Elephant & Wheelbarrow's new beer garden in the Valley, after he had been to a party. I met his housemate (who's a great laugh) and a couple of his friends. We stayed for a couple of drinks before we left for some private time.
No further details will be divulged.
I was fairly tired when he dropped me home the next morning, so after I had some breakfast and chatted to Paulie, my housemate for a bit, I decided to head upstairs to my room for a Nana nap.
I woke up 5 hours later, with all the pillow cases stripped (nothing unusual for me, especially if you've read this post), but I also discovered that I was chewing gum. Now I'm pretty sure I wasn't chewing anything before I went to bed and I remember brushing my teeth. So out of all the strange things I've done in my sleep, that has to be the weirdest fucking thing ever.
The scariest part is, I don't where I got the gum from. I didn't have any on my bedside table, or on my book shelf, where I usually stash all the items from my pockets after a night out. My work bag was in my room, but there wasn't a pack in there. In fact, I couldn't find any form of gum packaging any where in my room. So where the fuck did this gum in my mouth come from?
After that thought, I immediately spat it out. God... I don't know what it was if it wasn't chewing gum.