I fear my hectic celebrity lifestyle might be starting to catch up with me.
In this week alone I have played cricket and baseball in the park, been flour-bombed by scouts, and chased up a tree by a dog with an inferiority complex. Add my all-night socialising, singing practice, and regular rounds of the local pubs into the mix and I think I might be on course for a Lindsey Lohan-style attack of 'exhaustion'.
After a bout of sneezing yesterday I decided to spend the night at home, only to be woken by one of my cat posse yowling underneath the bedroom window all night in an effort to get me to come out. Everyone wants a piece of me, and sometimes there just isn't enough to go round.
Like a true celebrity I blame the demands of my working schedule, and of course the pressures of media scrutiny. I've started therapy to help me deal with my issues of low self-esteem and my constant need to please, and am considering a trip to the Priory to de-tox and de-stress.
My therapist says I must listen to my inner kitten in order to heal my emotional self. I will have to reassess my relationships and cut out toxic influences on my life. It won't be an easy journey, but then when has an easy journey ever been a worthwhile journey (apart from the journey to the pub, perhaps)?
Who knows, perhaps in time I might be able to write my own self-help guide - 'The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Cats'.
If that fails, there's always prozac.