So I’m typing crap into a computer when I should be doing something more useful. Emptying the washing machine and then packing to go to France tomorrow morning, oh actually this morning, spring to mind immediately as more productive uses of my time. But hey, the night is young and I am increasingly less so.
A night in a pub drinking shandy? That I should be reduced to this! Scandalous. One of the things that I long suspected was that working made me drink too much and in the last couple of months, excellently, my theory has been proved true. So there it is, official scientific proof that work is most definitely bad for you. Become unemployed. Your liver will love you for it and put you back on it’s Christmas card list and you’ll have more money in your pocket. When was the last time YOU had a Christmas card from your liver? I rest my case.
OK, on with domesticity…
aren’t you going to credit me for that phrase? did i not inspire it? anon.