I am feeling all warm and tingly inside

I am having the worst day of my life, but this is ok because I have just painted my toe nails and the sun is shining. Outside, that is. From the window I can hear birdsong - no, really - and I can see a leaf being blown gently along on the grass. I will drink jasmine tea and sit in the window sill and do nothing but sit with the window open and bask in the spring breeze and the smell of jasmine.

I've just noticed the leaf is actually a bit of litter. That's actually much more appropriate, much more fitting. Means I no longer feel compelled to open the window. I am much warmer with it shut, and I find sitting on the floor oppsite with my beautiful silver laptop in my, uh, lap, much more aesthetically pleasing. And practical.

Despite having had the worst few days of my life with today as the absolute low point, it is ok, and do you know why that is? Because I am feeling happy. Content. This morning, I woke up trying to cuddle a viking helmet, and nearly put out an eye on one of the horns. There was also a Spiderman doll. The world was mostly dark, which struck me as odd, because I was pretty sure it had been daylight when we got in. Trying to sit up, I banged my head on what turned out to be a large chalk board with the words 'LAYDEEZ NITE!!!!' still clearly visible.
I wonder where it was stolen from. As a general rule, I do not steal things when drunk. On my left arm are the words 'BEOWULF UND THUNDER'. I have no idea what this means. I also have two pink hair extensions. I have no idea where they came from. Or when, actually. I'm not sure I looked in a mirror yesterday.

Rosie has just come in. She did the whole inadvertent inhalation of coffee through her nose at the sight of the aforementioned trophies leaning against the wall.
"You should see what I woke up with," she said.
I think I shall defer that delight, I told her.

She then completely failed to leave the room before throwing up, instead choosing to utilise the sink. I hope she is feeling appropriately embarrassed about this, but I cannot ask because she has gone out. I have relocated to her room, where the smell of vomit cannot follow. Rosie has just come back in, looking decidedly wan, and wielding a large carrier bag. I have just been presented with a plunger, which I feel she should keep, a pack of blueberry muffins, a bunch of flowers and some aspirin.

Now thats friendship.

And I don't think I fancy her anymore, either.