Imagine this post is littered with sniffles and used tissues.

I was quite busy this weekend.

I sort of want to write a post detailing what I did, but I can't really be bothered and I know in my heartiest of hearts that I'll get bored halfway through and wander off. Then I'll come back to it and think in an abstract sort of a way about finishing it, get bored again and then just end up telling a joke. Like the following:

Q. What did the 0 say to the 8?
A. Nice belt.

This would not be very mature or sophisticated of me, and I don't want you to think I'm immature or unsophisicated so I will try not to let this happen.

I will perhaps write some highlights.

Highlight Number One: Doing Washing Before Going Out On Friday.
I was, for some reason, a bit stressed about how this would work. It's obvious now, though. Just put the washing in and then go out. I'm not sure what the problem is. Stupid Friday Me. I berate and judge you.

Highlight Number Two: Going Out.
To a pub then to Tea Bar in Shoreditch. It was lovely to see Sarah and Tom, and of course Dan. I got on the last-but-one tube home as well! I felt so angelic and smug about not having to sit fearfully on a Night Bus, waiting to leap off it and into some scary part of Brixton and then having to run home wildly for fear of crime.

Highlight Number Three: Hanging Washing Up Before Going To Bed.
I was so pleased with myself about this. Again, I'm not really sure this merits a highlight but I was inordinately proud of myself.
Don't dwell on it too long, though.

Highlight Number Four: Going To Leamington.
Going to Royal Leamington Spa isn't something I would class as being joyous or highlight-status deserving in its own right, although it is pretty in parts and has a good-sized Tesco. It was nice to see some of the people I saw when I was up there, though, and with some of them it was better than nice! It was, like, really nice! I had fun and perhaps got some drunk. Also pizza happened, of which I am a fan.

Highlight Number Four: Learning A Valuable Lesson.
Which was that people, as a general rule, do not like it when you stroke their faces just after you've eaten a packet of barbeque-flavoured Nik-Naks.

Highlight Number Five: The Best Bit.
Last night I went straight from Leamington to my, um, boyfriend's house. I like him lots. That is my version of me wearing my heart on my sleeve, so it's all I'll say. I like him lots. I like him lots*.

*It doesn't count if I say the same thing more than once, because I'm not adding to the emotion, I'm simply reiterating it. Which, as everyone knows, doesn't induce Things Going Wrong And Me Dying Inside.

In bad news: I think I'm getting a cold. The other day I saw a man on the tube sneeze into a copy of The Metro and then put it on the seat for other people to pick up at will. I blame him. I also blame the Baftas, which I accidentally watched last night and was so boring that my body must have distracted itself by finding a virus to play with.

In good news: I have a Snickers bar in my bag, which I can't justify eating yet but I might later on. Also I wrote another song before work this morning.

I wrote a song last Thursday for my friend who was having a shit day, recorded it and took it up to her when I went to Leamington. I think she liked it. It was called Lily's Blues.

I have nothing more to add, except that I would very much like it not so much to be Monday, and for me not so much to be feeling a bit rubbish. I would also like to go and daydream somewhere. If I don't articulate things the Universe won't hear them, which is why I am desperately keeping my happiness and surprise inside.
You know?

Someone once told me to wear my heart on my sleeve and not to be so guarded with my emotions, but my experiences have proven that this course of action leads to pain and pain and just maybe half a teaspoon more of pain, so I cannot.