Tuesday night trash TV

I'm blogging on my lap in front of the television, watching the OC; which makes no sense to me because I never watch it but mostly, I suspect, because it makes no sense. I'm eating too much halva, feeling nauseous, watching Kate teach Andy how to play backgammon, and dreading impending visit from Angel Healing. So, I haven't actually met Angel Healing. She rang about sub letting my flatmate's room today and I spoke to her on the phone. She started off sounding fine and then started sounding more and more like she would be an incredibly irritating person to live with - in fact, sounding like a bit of a nutter. She said that she could tell we were spiritual people just by talking to us on the phone. I pointed out that I was more inclined to describe myself as a cynical than a spiritual person. It was only after we'd arranged the flat viewing that we had this conversation. I've spent the whole evening trying to come up with reasons that she can't have the room. I don't want Angel Healing feeling my guardian angels. A girl's guardian angels are her castle.