I’ve not had a day to myself since… Monday? Last week. To be fair, one of those days I was going to a comedy gig, but that involved almost my entire day being taken up by stuff. So yes, I haven’t had a day to myself in over a week. That meant when I was presented with a day of two utterly useless lectures, I forgoed the education and instead indulged myself.
Yes, I haven’t done anything of worth with my day. I spent most of it playing on my Xbox. I smell a bit now, and right after I write this post I’m going to have a shower. I tell you all this, dear reader, so that you too can appreciate the gifts a truely slovenly day can bring. Let me walk you through it, if you will, and I shall open your eyes to the wonderous nature of the Day Off.
It begins with a lie in. So basically you do nothing before you do nothing. You stay under those toasty sheets, turn the alarm off before you even set it to snooze. This is vital for such a day. It must be done. So you lay there till at least 11am (I know that’s not that late, but with my timetable that’s practically the afternoon these days), and when you do get out you don’t do anything. You may go make some toast, you might have a bowl of cereal, but it’s pertinent that you don’t do anything strenuous or even useful.
Personally, I find idly browsing a few websites is always good. If I’m feeling particularly energetic on a day off, I might watch an episode of a tv show. But that’s it. It’s wonderful, and everyone knows it. Of course, the next few stages are vital to making a Day Off great or making it feel like a wasted day. Firstly, Don’t get dressed. Put a t-shirt on if you must, but I’d always take the dressing gown over that. You don’t need to be clean yet, and you don’t need to be ready to do anything. You’re going to stay at home today, so why bother getting dressed? Exactly, so put those boxers away.
The rest of the day is a medley of making yourself indulgent snacks, bending to your every desire, and basically making sure that nothing of worth is done. If you’re still in your pyjamas at 5pm, tired of doing nothing, then the day is going well. It’s probably about time to order take away. Because fuck cooking, this is your Day Off.
And so you reach the evening, a belly full of someone else’s work, your eyes tired from watching things other people have done. It’s a rather enjoyable feeling really. You’ve literally done nothing to contribute to any form of society, except perhaps help buy the take away guy a few more pints. It’s glorious, and when you sink back into bed wearing the same things you were when you got out of it this morning, you can do naught but smile contentedly.