Unemployment, Day 5

The last few days have passed fairly uneventfully - I have managed to keep myself reasonably busy without spending too much money or wasting too much time. While I admittedly stayed in my pyjamas until 4:30pm on Wednesday, I payed penance by cleaning all day yesterday. Cleaning my room is a herculean task - living in the attic, the eaves mean lots of stooping and crawling around with brooms, dusters and so on in an attempt to attack the large dust bunnies that seem to breed in the corners. And then there's the stuff. With two of us in one room, there is a lot of stuff and very little space in which to shove it. However, a lot of patience, energy and windex later, the room was spotless and the floor was once again visible. It was a nice feeling to flop down at night and look out across the room and not subconciously plot a path for emergencies trips in the night.

Which brings me to something that I saw on the news a few minutes ago. The Met Police have a novel way to deal with people throwing up all over town after six too many drinks. If caught by the Police, the Vomitee has two options - they can either pay an £80 fine or they can use a police provided bucket and mop and clean up their sick, avoiding the fine.

It would be novel to see the worse for wear trying to cope with their own sick, having just been sick. It strikes me that an already queasy stomach is probably not the best condition in which one should be confronted with the recent evictees of said stomach. I can bearly deal with sick when I'm sobre, I could see this being a lengthy process. Start to weakly clean up sick, catch whiff of sick, puke again. regain some composure, once again attempted to clean up sick, catch whiff, puke again. You get the drift. For some people, this option coupled with drunken determination could lead to lengthy battles with a mop and a policeman down a dark alley. Not the way you'd imagined your saturday night in town ending, right?