Ah, Up at 9.30, Breakfast and the World News

Ah, up at 9.30, breakfast and the world news until I had to head off to the doctor by midday to get a few new scripts. Then a mosey around the book shop on my way home, to see if they have the book I read about in the doctor's waiting room, The secret history of queer Melbourne, they didn't. Then catching up with a friend for a quick lunch, the friend is fitting in in between appointments and then home by 2pm to call the roller door man to fix my roller door, something I have been putting off for some time.

The joys of working 3 days per week.

One of my old colleagues tells me that a company that we both used to do consulting work for is desperate for staff... apparently, there is a skills shortage, or some such thing. Who'd have thought? Coincidentally, I've been thinking that while working 3 days per week is lovely, just gorgeous, I'm not, actually, doing the writing that I was meant to be doing. You know, take 2 days off per week and write that great novel. Yes, well, nice in theory, but not a lot is happening in practise. So, I had just been thinking that I should increase my work hours, when my ex-colleague told me about the before mentioned company.

What do they call that? No, I'm sure it's not kizmit.

It's all very nice having four days off and working three, but am I wasting my time pissing it all away?

And, of course, Sam, being the strict work ethic type that he is, thinks it's a grand idea that I go back to full time work. He just looks at me when I say I like my three day weeks, as though I am speaking some sort of alien tongue. Most of my excuses affect him like water on a ducks back and he crosses his arms and purses his mouth, the way he does and he calls me lazy Christian.

Apparently, I could have a new car and I could fix all the things that need fixing around the house and I could have a mountain of "new stuff" if I went back to five days.

"Good plan," he says. "Make it happen."

So, as well as calling the roller door man - my roller door no longer, actually, does what you would call work, so I can put that off no longer - I'm supposed to be calling my old company and teeing up a contract or a million.

You see, I do not like my current company enough to go back full time with them. I was going to suggest it to them last new year, but then I had all that trouble with the anorexic bitch boss and I decided it was a bad idea. This way, I can go and work for my old company Monday and Friday and most likely that would morph into more work than that with them and then I can leave my current company.

"It's a good plan," says Sam. "Call them."

But, you see, if I do that I will, actually, have to work five days again and... and... and, I like doing lunch and I like going to the doctor (when it suits me and not squeezed in after work) and I like looking around book shops.