Sheer Indolence

I took a day off work yesterday. Not so unusual, you might think, but I'm temping these days, and somehow I've got into the habit of going to the office Every Single Day. Don't get paid when I'm not here, so, taking days off to do, well, nothing seems both hugely frivolous and a financial dead end.

That said though, I took yesterday off to so something really silly, and a bit out of character. I met some people from the internet - nothing new there, some of my bestest friends in the whole world started off as "nutters from the internet" at one point, and they're none the worse for that, better, in fact, sometimes. Then stood in a queue for several hours so I could buy a book. Then get the book signed by the celebrity what wrote it.

Now, I get my celebrity obsessions from time to time, don't get me wrong, but I'll usually limit my behaviour to tracking down all their films on DVD or mentioning them to my "nutters from the internet" friends (or NFTIF for short) once in a while. Taking a day off to go see them outside of the context of a performance or something, well that's just a bit, well, too obsessive for me.

But, I had a ball yesterday - once I'd stopped marvelling at the fact that I was very possibly the oldest woman in the bit of the queue I could see. The queuee's themselves were all very sweet and friendly (well, the ones in fancy dress were a bit odd, but hey ho, I'm a fine one to talk) and there was a great atmosphere there. And the man himself, well, he was very lovely and charming and, if I wasn't obsessed with him before - which I wasn't, actually - I am now. A little bit.

Shame the photo came out so crap. But never mind. It was nice to do something frivolous, nice to do something that didn't involve worrying about making a fool of myself for once, and just fucking NICE to be out of this hellhole I call an office.

I need a job with paid holidays, time off is great. Time off is precious. I want more.