I'm still looking for all those lost hours every day - there are never enough, and I've potentially shot myself in the foot by signing up for the CFA level 1 exam this June. Pathetic that I could only go 8 months without something to study towards. The kiasu-ness runs deep.
With one week left in Manchester, I'm in two minds about whether or not to try and stay on or move on. The city has definitely grown on me and the Great John Street is now a second home, a very comfortable one.
Valentine's Day on Thursday was economically celebrated with a 3 piece Colonel's meal and American Idol with Cheryl. I know Weng ate better than I did. I didn't even get a flower, just a really big serving of chicken rice the next day - I shouldn't be complaining, really.
I've spent most of Friday and Saturday determined to make a dent in my 35 hour sleep debt. Weng occasionally remembers he has a girlfriend and tries to hassle me out of bed. I think I have only been awake about 7 hours so far, and the time I have been awake, I've been catching up on pop culture: Juno has amazing chat.
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