Celebration of the unemployed.

I have returned to unemployment with joyous abandon. Yesterday was my last day of work experience and as of such, I have no plans for the next two months, until I go back to the magazine for a six month internship. I'll be doing some freelancing and working on some other projects in the meantime though so I'll be keeping busy but also keeping my own hours.

To celebrate my new unemployed freedom, I've spent the last 15 or so hours in bed. It's now 3:30pm and apart from getting out of bed for a can of coke, I have not needed to move since around midnight last night.

All of this lying down has not been in vain, oh no. I have quietly been scheming and plotting to drag myself out of bed and up to the high street to eat a big mac and get some fresh air since my mac attack hit around noon. Hopefully the combination of grease and being somewhere other than my bed will finish off my gradually disappating hangover, caused by last-day-drinks last night.

I really must either stop drinking entirely or start drinking more and rebuild my tolerance for alcohol. These days I find myself falling about, waving umbrellas, being surly to the chinese takeaway man and engaging strangers in conversations at bus stops after three drinks, whereas little over a year ago three drinks would've allowed me to still be for the most part coherent and the least, able to still walk in a straight line. I miss those days.