2004-09-10 at 10:35 p.m.

Well, 'Annie' is over. I had two whole days to revel in the heady rush of joy I felt at the realisation I'd never have to play 'Tomorrow' ever again. After that lengthy and refreshing break, I immediately began casting for 'A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum'.

I just spent the majority of this evening laboriously entering one of the 'Forum' numbers into my music publishing software so it could be transposed up a tone and a half for the singer.

Tomorrow, I have to combine two completely different songs into one cohesive and tuneful opening number.

I really hope I haven't gotten in over my head here.

For the past six months or so, I've been playing piano for a primary school choir. Up until this point, my role was to sit at the piano and bash out any number of catchy, child-oriented songs, such as 'If You're Happy and You Know It', 'Yellow Submarine', and 'Smack My Bitch Up'.

Lately, my role has become a little more... involved.

Picture me, if you will, standing up the front of the room with the classroom teacher, heartily singing this song (with accompanying hand actions, of course)

I'm not entirely sure what 'Boom Tiara' means (I think it might have something to do with bejewelled, exploding headwear, but I can't be sure). The problem is, I have been unable to get that damn song- particularly the 'Boom Tiara' part- out of my head for the past two weeks.

This is worse than the 'Oops, I did it Again' trauma of '00.

Something disturbing has happened to me.

I'm not quite sure when it began. The change crept in so slowly, so subtly, that I can't pinpoint the moment it began. And yet, though I have grown aware of this change, I am unable to prevent it. In fact - despite the fact that I am wracked with guilt and shame on a daily basis- I don't want to prevent it.

I speak, of course, of the desire to purchase homewares.

Perhaps I should have seen the warning signs when I purchased the floor lamp with two seperate lights (one for general lighting and a special reading light). Perhaps I should have been more aware when I purchased the matching cushions for the lounge. And then a rug that matched the cushions. And then some candles that matched the rug, and then the ornaments to match the candles, until I finally found myself today standing in front of a set of hand painted earthenware serving dishes, trembling with rapture and salivating profusely. The moment I realised what I was doing, of course, I got the hell out of there, but those damn dishes have now wormed their way into my mind, and refuse to leave. I hear their lilting siren song- "Buy Us! Buy Us! We match your living room decor!"

This never would have happened if I was getting drunk as often as I used to.