I don't really know how to categorise this post. I don't know which day to put it into. I do know that this week has been truly weird and I've been working under what can only be described as unrealistic pressures. I would also say that the chief instigator has been myself. I've been cranking the wheel harder than ever, hungry for success and afraid of failure.

I'll do my best to explain how I got from the pleasures of turning 34 on Sunday to this weird and wonderful 7.47am on a Friday morning where I'm sitting in a towel, desperately trying to keep my brain from coming to a total halt.

On Tuesday, there was work. I had a gig in the evening, only an hour or so from the office. The project was running beyond my comfort zone. I went and did the gig, leaving later than originally planned, but being there in time to do the gig and enjoy a good laugh. Then I came back to the office and worked through the night. The record shows that I entered the building at 23.55 and I didn't leave until after 7am on Wednesday morning when I went home for a shower.

Though it's Friday, all of that still feels a bit like it happened only yesterday. The story continues.

After Wednesday morning's shower, which was really an extension of Tuesday's day, I went back to work, did a good 11 hours of work and then came back home. I met my housemate at the house and we went out to a comedy night. I thought the first pint would floor me. In fact, it didn't. I managed a few before my body started to go into the danger zone. Luckily there was the deeply unhealthy food option to soak up the alcohol before I collapsed into my bed to go into a deep coma...

...sadly, I was risen from this coma on Thursday morning - which is genuinely yesterday - by my housemate who threw my jeans at me to wake me up. This worked. I got up and went to work.

A day of work followed, after which I headed to my gig in Cradley Heath, near Birmingham. I headed to this gig at 7.20, which was about an hour later than planned. The gig was going to run late and I was going to be going on whenever. So I didn't need to rush. I had time to ring people. I even had a long chat with my mother. Such things are possible on long car journeys with wireless headsets.

Then I arrived at the gig. I did my turn, overran, flirted ridiculously with a pretty audience-member, then left the building before anyone had a chance to challenge me. I think I had a good gig. I was left, again, with a feeling that my spoken comedy is starting to upstage my songs, even though most of the spoken stuff I do is ad-libs. Interesting. Probably just insecurity, rather than any actual valuable analysis of my comedic prowess.

After all these late nights, I needed an early night to catch up on lost sleep.

Instead I returned to the office to whack another 6 hours in on the project.

I've just had my shower and I need to go back to the office for the day. I don't know how to bring this project back on track. I do know that working myself to death is not the answer. I'm not sure I want to work the weekend on it. I have gigs this weekend. Technically, that's not proving to be a blocker for work.

I'd like to do some DIY this weekend.

So far, I suspect that there's going to be a lot of sleeping to do and not much else.