Things I do on my days off:
- Eat. If it doesn’t fall into the category of coffee, cake or pastry I buy in bulk and eat in shifts – on the hour every hour until I feel sick (then I wait for 15 minutes/until the ad break in CSI and start again).
- Laundry. I have found that a few solid thwacks with a broom is enough to beat the every-expanding pile into submission. If I sit on the ironing pile it compacts to the point where you can carve off a slice and create a new trend.
- Exercise. I bound to the gym, full of enthusiasm, and spend the daylight hours vigorously attending to my physical health and well-being…ok, that’s a lie. I thought about it once but decided that it didn’t match my jacket (which was created from the strata formed by 3 bras, a pair of jeans and a manky old jumper waylaid en route to the bin).
- Watch TV. In bed. In florescent pink pyjamas that were a gift From Canada. With a hot water bottle. And a cup of tea. ‘Nuff said.
- Panic. What if Gav is over-run by mutant ninja penguins and I’m not there to fend them off with an old Nisbetts catalogue? What if some stupid arse breaks the mascerator again and the wind blows the roof off and the till implodes and the juice machine decides to pack in all in and emigrate to Australia to surf and chuck a shrimp on the barbie? Where the hell will I be?? (In bed, probably).
- Drink. Admittedly I only have to sniff an alcoholic beverage nowadays and I’m legless, but I give it the ole college try as often as possible. (Colin is rarely impressed).
- Whinge. See 6. A hangover after one bottle of Miller Genuine Draft is pathetic, but slightly more acceptable than the medley of Tom Jones classics inspired by 2 bottles. (Colin is due a saint-hood).
- Blog. Well, contemplate it. Occasionally I even go so far as to mentally draft a highly amusing, slightly sardonic offering that will rival Belle de Jour for popularity and commercial viability, but my life is so damn boring that I abandon my delusions of literacy and return to 4. Or 1. Or (more often) a combination of the two. To be honest, it’s always a combination of the two.
Oh, the heady hedonism of it all…
Posted by biblocafe 