But instead of sitting here being excited with people - because nobody cares - I have to tidy the house for mum. Tidying the house after a whirlwind depressive episode sucks, on a bike, on toast.
But I have the knowledge that last night I watched a pretty boy plead into the microphone, "Love me, I'm model #426". And that's the best thing to have happened in the entire world in my entire liftime. So, y'know.
Oh, plus the book continues to write itself, which is nice.