May 1 (saturday): Saturday and I'm moving so slowly, where does the day go? I attempt to tidy my flat, fill three bin bags and there still doesn't seem much difference to the place. I don't actually leave the house until 1pm which then means I'm searching around everywhere for a newspaper in the afternoon. what's the deal with the Guardian on a saturday, it sells out almost immediately. It takes me about an hour to find somewhere selling it, really annoying really considering I mainly get it just for the tv guide. I go home to the parents and do jack, Millwall are on Sky and they have Sky and I don't. I'm mildly embarassed when Dad cleans my car for me but fuck it, it's covered in bird shit and needs a clean before said bird shit stains the paint work. While I am there my aunt visits and she makes some comment about me now being a grown and having lost lots of weight ("Atkins"). Millwall play at Derby on Sky and are fucking terrible, losing 2-0. Again I can barely remember them having a shot in the second half. The real revelation occurs when I get home. I seem to be having new month resolutions for May and really sticking to them. Upon getting home, on a saturday night, I set about insanely organising my life and begin studying and plotting my upcoming career in stocks and shares. In a very rare display of energy I am on full steam well into the early hours on giving out around 3 AM, which is unheard of by me. It's all good.