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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

Now that my stretch of unemployment is rapidly rushing to the finish line, I've been reflecting on all that things that I've been doing that seem to have been taking up all the time during my days. For example, today I have spent two hours at the gym, where me and my sister made fun of each other and the way we look while walking; I have been on the phone to the Mac Daddy JC, discussing suits and ties and other office related monstrosities; I have been busy messing around with other people's blogs and changing their appearance (I'm the queen of weblog html, you know); I have been singing loudly to B&J's 10 Songs About You and SP's When It's All Over...; I have been swearing blindly at the computer trying to install a programme I need for my OU essay that was due in yesterday and that I have already told my tutor is in the post when I haven't even started it yet; I have been tidying my room; I have been texting an unhealthy number of different people. Busy, busy, busy.

Mrs Bishop is on hiatus this week as well, being in the middle of her metamorphosis from being a trainee in a solicitors office to being a student of the law again. This is her last chance to be free, to break out of the mould, to run free of the constraints placed on her by a society who expect her and everyone else in her chosen profession to be sensible, holding high standards and higher morals, and what has she been doing with her free time? I'd like to say she's been mud wrestling / apple scrumping / pheasant poaching / breaking minor by-laws / killing or maiming innocents... No. She's been learning how to play golf.

JC has a lot of free time too. Today he decided to spend much of it in pain, having made the strange decision to run at a door frame with his face. Each to their own, that's what I say.

The sinking realisation that I'm going to have to go back to work soon fills me with dread and fear and boredom and trepidation and a slight feeling like I'm being asked to jump off the edge of a cliff, or at least just stand by the edge of a cliff, with my eyes closed, with someone's hand on my back, and they're whispering in my ear the words "Trust me..." and then chuckling away to themselves.

This entry was posted on 28 April 2004 at 6:01 pm. 0 comments

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