Woo, my first week off work in the whole of 2011! So much to do, and so little time to do it in! And one of those things to do is, Relaxing. Which naturally brings the dilemma: should I do Everything, really fast, because there is so much to do, or should I actually enjoy a precious, precious week off?
After checking my bank balance and discovering there was no chance of doing something breathtakingly exhilarating and memorable with the week, I found the solution – compromise! Spend some time working really hard, and some time relaxing. Or, if you’re me, Do nothing; but don’t enjoy it because you’re fretting about getting nothing done!
And immediately it became so. I got no work done on the window frames because it pelted down with rain all week (when it wasn’t pelting down with hail – seriously, I thought the flat was under attack at several points). I continued to read the mammoth series of really grim, depressing fantasy books in the evenings, rather than doing Sums every minute of the day. Etc.
I did, however, manage to bite the bullet and get the adverts up enquiring if someone who doesn’t hate my guts* would like to share my living space; for what I am told is a very reasonable price considering it includes all the bills, we more-or-less get two rooms apiece and I usually end up doing most of the housework. I have to confess to putting off the advertising in case I do get someone who hates my guts and I conclude on the basis of two pieces of evidence, while ignoring all previous bits of evidence to the contrary, that I do indeed suck, and then spend the rest of my life walking about with a metaphorical ‘kick me’ sign on my back and events unfold accordingly. Well, either that or I snap and go on a killing spree, which would be more of a laugh, eh.
You might think it the work of five minutes to whip up some photos and stick them on the internet with a bit of prose about what a great trumpet-player I am (that metaphor might have got a bit off-target), but first I had to hide all the Things, so the place looks less, you know, lived-in, and on that particular day, i.e. the only one with a hint of decent weather to make the place look less gloomy, the laptop decided it would run the scan to end all scans. It took all day and three close shaves with the pitching of the thing out the window to achieve.
Mercifully, it took slightly less time to cut and paste into other ‘room available’ advertising sites.
And then I sat back and waited. And waited. Corks. Maybe nobody likes me already.
In conclusion: I spent my week off being a hermit. A highly disgruntled one, most of the time, but that was okay because nobody Saw. Except for my colleagues who invited me out to dinner on the Tuesday (damn the expense. I mean, damn! The expense!), and Rice Krispies, who very kindly came over at the weekend and drove all my recyclables to the tip in return for a bed for the night. And was brave enough to help me test-run the Brand New Peapod Wine, which does indeed taste remarkably strongly of peapods, but is Okay With A Spritzer. Which means I have eight bottles of wine and they are going to last forever, hurrah! Cheapness!
The tip-trip did not go quite as well as the wine did, alas. The tip is not very far away – I looked it up on the map and it might be something just over an hour’s round-trip away on foot (if I wasn’t trying to get an enormous television there, for instance). Something over an hour is indeed how long it took us to get there and back, thanks to the vagaries of the ‘no left OR right turns’ signage everywhere. At one point we ended up in a desolate maze of cul-de-sacs and menacing towerblocks, during which moment of grinding terror, the CD player chose a lovely little banjo-heavy ditty to put us in the mood. Or, foretell our doom, one of the two. We managed to escape only because of Rice Krispies’ car (a Surfing vehicle in the traditional manner, and for bonus points, one that had been parked next to a car that got torched, this one time, so it’s a bit melty on one side). Ha, maybe the inhabitants were worried we were coming to drive down property prices!
After all that, we both needed a kip. Ah, here is the sign of a great mate – they need a nap at the same time you do.
And thus ends the least impressive week off ever!