It is 9am on Wednesday morning and the rest of the household (including the cats) have all departed to their various destinations. It’s just me and the dogs left facing an endless day together. You see I am still ‘on the sick’, signed off by my excellent GP Dr Keith (I promised I would write something nice about him). So what to do?
Start off by wandering round the house aimlessly wearing only underpants (or less). Now I don’t want to put you off your muesli and I realise that this is probably a man thing, but there is something strangely liberating about promenading throughout home and garden in the buff especially when the sun is shining, so long as family and neighbours are out and there is no one to laugh at you. However the dogs seem puzzled and are getting a tad over-friendly, so I put some kit on. I love them but I don’t want them licking my, err, legs.
I refuse to get guilty about not taking them for a walk. “Sorry guys but I am supposed to be resting. It would not look good if someone from the department was to telephone to enquire about my health and I wasn’t in”. Eat healthy breakfast, yuk!
Spend thirty frustrating minutes trying to crack the security code on son’s computer. It surely can’t be that difficult – he is not the imaginative type. I want to find out exactly what he is up to and what sites he visits when he retires to his room and surfs away half the night with the door closed. He works for a company which, among other things, does a lot of work for the military and consequently has had to sign the Official Secrets Act. They have obviously taught him a few tricks because I fail to break in.
It is mid-morning so decide to watch daytime TV. It appears that Jason (shaven head, naff tee shirt, NEET) has impregnated his girlfriend Kylie (doughnut, acne). However her Mum Sharon (Croydon face-lift, smoker’s rattle) with whom she resides, has suddenly announced that she is also up the duff but she refuses to name the father. Although he denies it, Kylie is quite convinced that Jason has been two-timing her with her Mum and she is gutted. She thinks she will never be able to trust him again. At which point I scream and throw the remote at the TV. “Of course he is two-timing you, you silly bint, he is just a penis on two legs; surely you can see that?” Then realise that this is definitely not helping the blood pressure, so switch over to watch a DVD.
Avatar! Boy arrives with colonising army, meets (blue) native girl and falls in love. Boy goes native and joins with girl and other (blue) natives in defeating cruel colonisers. That largely sums up the story which has been told a thousand times before (and better), and the rest is pretty pictures reminiscent of Bambi. Did this garbage really cost $280m to make? Yawn and turn off after three minutes.
Check e-mails, 47 in total, all spam. Nothing from the hospital or my colleagues; have they forgotten me already? I am sure they cannot be coping without me, the department must be falling apart. Who will do the endo-anal scans? What about the poor junior doctors who relied on me to sort out all their problems? They must be missing me terribly. Or is it me missing them?
It’s only 11am! Please Dr Keith let me go back to work soon.
Tags: Sick leave
War & Peace, and/or computer chess - otherwise you’ll go mad.
Bit of fishing is always a nice way to wile away some time (clothes optional).