Days off and downtime

I know I've just been giving out about having to work so much recently but now that I'm at home on time off I'm wondering which is worse.

I've been glued to the History Channel as usual, so by now have seen the same programmes three times and am fully up to 3Xspeed on Mummy Forensics and everything I didn't really want to know about F15 and Raptor fighter jets, vector, thrust and the Lockheed versus Northrop race to win contracts from the US government. And if I see another ad for a Time Life Classics album, the ultimate abs workout machine, or Churchill insurance (Oh yes), I think I might just jump out the window after the telly.

I did watch another revealing programme about the history and development of toilets and pooing however (Discovery channel indeed), and was intrigued to learn how the lazy Elizabethans just basically took a shit behind the curtain or in the corner when the urge came on them, because they frankly couldn't be bothered getting up and doing it somewhere else. Dirty bastards. In the near future though, it seems we'll all be pooing into chute toilets and throwing a handful of sawdust down after it (I don't think you wipe with the sawdust though) to help it mulch into fertiliser compost in some big bucket underneath. Wow. Have a little piece of me for your flower beds type thing.

I do have alternative viewing options on DVD of course but I am trying to ration my watching of the FuckinSopranos, so as not to plough through them all too quickly like I regrettably did with Band of Brothers, because then it's back to the TV and those crap-happy Elizabethans. I'm on Series 4 by the way, and still haven't figured out how FuckinTony gets so many nice women given that he has a face like a donkey chewing thistles.

The Playstation is there beckoning temptingly to me of course, but I'm loath to switch it on because I've often done that just to "play for a few hours," only to lose track completely and over the course of three days solid button-bashing, develop malnourishment and bed sores.

So I'm trying to be productive. I've been catching up on some housework like. I had no choice but do the dishes as every piece of crockery I own was filthy and about to sprout legs and walk out in protest. For the previous week, I'd been cooking and eating out of the Ken Hom (hypersupermegawok extraordinaire supreme), rinsing it and repeating. My Ken Hom is the fucking business so it is but I couldn't lean on Ken forever and took pity on the poor fella in the end.
I did a general tidy up as well which involved cursory hoovering around all my clutter and then moving it all from one side of the room to the other before nodding at it satisfactorily with my hands on my hips. Job done, take a rest fella.

All the laundry is taken care of too. I put on about five washes of clothes, socks, jocks, towels and old sweaty gym stuff (niiiiice) and now have it festooned and dangling about the rooms in an effort to dry what won't cram into the heaving hotpress. There's so much clothes hanging everywhere it looks like Fagin and Fortycoats just had an energetic orgy in here or something.

So now I'm twiddling my thumbs, if you can do that and type at the same time. The lads want me to go into town and watch the match tonight but I did that last week and ended up drinking more pints than I should have, so I'm thinking better of it for tonight.

Which means I'll probably end up in town tonight, ho-hum. Ach sure amn't I on me holidays?