Lessons in not very much at all

I have never really had reason to be bored. Not for prolonged periods anyway. Something is always going on, coming up or happening next. And generally, when I'm up to my neck in work or a slave to my social calendar, it's dreaming about time off and relaxation that keeps me going.

But an involuntary break - like the one I’m on now - is far from relaxing. I spend nearly as much energy feeling bored and directionless as I could be working. Apparently reviewing all the various holes in your life 64 times a day does not create sufficient mental fatigue as to induce sleep. Not even 90 minutes of hot yoga can do it. Round and round it goes... and like any reasonable over-active brain, it holds both sides of any conversation.
Hugh Grant had no qualms being a lad of leisure in About a Boy. But while he happily settled in to watch the UK equivalent of Wheel of Fortune every afternoon, I can’t even bring myself to turn on the television. Because it’s a slippery slope when it comes to daytime tv... there's no going back. As soon as I utter one sentence containing the words Kerri-Ann, Oprah or Danoz Direct, I'll know I’ve hit rock bottom.

Volunteering has crossed my mind. Whilst not exactly lucrative it would give the soul a squeeze and a sense of purpose. Particularly post-orphanage there are plenty of children’s charities around which I would love to be involved with. But I tend to think that while I’m embedded in my surly what-am-I-doing-with-my-life mood, I might be more a hindrance than a help. They’ve got enough problems already.

The offer of some pub shifts for cash is not one I could, in good conscience, pass up. As well as giving me something to do for a few weeks, it was supposed to help alleviate my financial constipation. A situation that is exacerbated by the fact that the only pastime I seem to enjoy lately is shopping! Ah yes the lure of retail therapy is as powerful as ever. South Wharf, Harbortown, Highpoint… name your two-syllable retail mecca and I’ve been there. But alas when only shifts starting at 9pm Friday and Saturday nights were offered to me, I had to gracefully decline. I mean if I can't spend weekend nights in a wine induced stupor with my friends, then I'll have to start drinking by myself during the day. Hello slippery slope...

What to do?
What to do, what to do...