Tag Archives: work

Get a job

It’s not all fun and games sitting at home playing video games. Being at home all day creates this nagging sensation that perhaps one should actually do some of those jobs that one doesn’t normally get around to until the weekend and which, because it’s the weekend, one then doesn’t feel compelled to do.

All of which basically means washing up, washing clothes, cleaning the bathroom and constantly tidying up after children is drastically eating into my Xbox time.

In fact after the kids are dropped off, the morning chores are done and I’ve fired off enough job applications to sate my guilt glands, I normally have just the right amount of time to watch the loading screen for GTA before the kids are knocking on the door. I’ve tried closing the curtains. I’ve parked my car a few roads away. I’ve even put up a SOLD sign in the front garden but those little humans just keep returning.

The days don’t return though. They keep disappearing. One minute I think I’ve got all the time in the world. The next minute, the world is another week older and my inbox is a little bit fatter with “thanks for your interest,”s and “we’ll keep your CV on file,”s.

I should definitely get a job. Getting a job would slow the clock right down.


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Time Management

– You really should start work, it’s twelve minutes past nine.

“I’m very well aware of the time, thank you very much. It’s just that, well, I was going to finish my coffee before I start really working.”

– You won’t though, will you? The dregs of your coffee are already stone-cold. You’ve had it since eight thirty. When you finish it, or realise you don’t want to finish it because it’s too cold and ‘bitty’, you’ll just end up getting out of your seat and making tea.

“Why do you keep writing the time like that?”

– Hush. Are you going to start work now or not? It’s thirteen past nine, now.

“You’re weird.”

– I’m weird? You should check yourself before you wreck…

“Don’t say that. You sound like a complete penis when you say that. Besides, I’m just about to start work. Right………. nnnn…….”

– For crying out loud. At least open Word, or Excel, or perhaps the website you’re supposed to be working on. At least look busy.”

“I am busy. I’m planning.”

– Planning what? It certainly isn’t your day.

“Stuff. I’m planning stuff.”

– You’re planning on going to the toilet aren’t you? You’re planning on wasting another five minutes by walking downstairs and draining the so-called lizard. Pfftt. More like pinching the worm.

“I wasn’t.”

– But?

“But I am now.”

– I despair.

“I hate you.”

– I know.



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The funeral

“How was your funeral?” she asked. She had meant “THE funeral”; I’m fairly sure I’m not dead.

Two days ago I wore a black tie with my white shirt; it had just felt like a black tie with a white shirt kind of day. She looked at me and realised I was 15% less scruffy-looking than I generally appear. Noting the tie she had asked if I had a job interview. “LOL”.

I sat stoney-faced and replied, “I have a funeral to go to”.


My day went uninterrupted after that.

“How was your funeral?” she asked this morning.

“Dead good” I replied.


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Sometimes when the sun shines and the shadows form upon the blinds,
I wonder what I’m doing here, sat at work without a beer.
A coffee in my hand instead – I mean it’s nice and all but like I said –
a frothy beverage with a head on top would really satisfy and not
just make me hotter on a Summer’s day instead of chasing the blues away
with an ice cold lager and a bag of nuts, the sun on my face and eyes tight shut.

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