Dog Day Afternoon

I have far too much time on my hands these days. 

How much does the internet weigh? Is Most Haunted fixed? Who will play Jade Goody in "Jade Goody - The Musical"? Is there a word for the moment in time when you glance at a second-hand on a wristwatch or clock and it seems to make fun of you by stopping...for ages...then starting with a jolt? Mocking the fact that you have too much time on your hands these days.

All of these questions bounce around my mind like tiny bubbles of pop, occasionally fizzing to the surface where they're released in one joyous explosion, then never to be thought of again.

What I should be thinking of is where am I to find gainful employment following my enforced house arrest at the hands of the faceless Credit Crunch, which sounds like the breakfast cereal rejected by Kellog's. 

Although not in receipt of Job Seekers Allowance (surely a Zac Efron, Disney movie waiting to happen), I dutifully sign on every fortnight. 
The irony that a shortfall in my First Class National Insurance contributions means I receive no money, other than First Class National Insurance contributions, is not lost on me.

I meet every other Thursday with a lovely lady, Point 10A, 9.15am, I shall call her. I hand my little card over, showing her all the made-up jobs I have long since put down. She never checks, she never asks. One quick glance at my Looking For Work diary will show she has signed off in the last fortnight my applications for the positions of Ringmaster and Ice Road Trucker. Much too much time on my hands.

I am , though, applying for real, more mundane posts.(just in case you know Miss Point10A, 9.15am).
83 at the last count, though I have stopped counting. If it were sheep I'd have long since gone to sleep.

I am the eternal optimist, however. The 2 interviews gleaned from the harvest of applications may only be a 2.352% success rate (too much time), but I do know somebody who, along with his brother, has won nearly £7million on the lottery a few years back. The odds there are infinitessible in comparison. If they can beat those odds then I can certainly overcome a meaty 2.352%.

So there I am. Waving the wife off to work, ironing tiny school shirts, making lunchboxes, setting the Indesit to 40 degrees, quick wash and truly wondering if there really are 60 Useful Things You Can Do With Vinegar?

The first time I arrived at the kiddies school I became the child and had to be led by my two sons to the drop-off and collection points for them." Don't forget Dad, 3.15 we come out, though George always forgets his jumper, so we might be later".
Who does everyone here think I am? Does everyone know? Do they think I work nights? Do they think I work shifts? Do they think I'm a drug-dealer? Child-minder? Off-duty copper/soldier? I wanted to wear my "You haven't seen me here before but I'm their Dad, look at their faces and mine, we look alike" T-shirt but it would have had to be printed on the back, too, and I'd have spent all morning spinning around so people got the message. The message being, look at the spinning nutter.

Back home, check the Indesit, unplug the iron I'd forgotten to previously and think of chips for tea tonight. Cheap, easy to prepare and the one and only use I have for vinegar.
After that it would be another few applications fired off into cyberspace (surely adding to the weight of the internet?) and the bottle of pop would start to fizz again.

How many Lassies were there? Shall I alphabeticize my wardrobe? How many wristwatches do I own? The answer to the final question is 4, as I wore them all at once. 
Like I said, I have far too much time on my hands these days.