Bored, bored, bored

I'm bored. Can you tell? Well, what does one do in the early hours when everyone else is asleep and you don't want to do the ironing and your brain is kaput - but fiddle around with the template on one's blog.

Excellent therapy. Alcohol would be good therapy too but unfortunately I have to drive first thing tomorrow morning. Humph.

I'm not one for self pity (oh all right I am) but blimey the last couple of weeks have been some of my worst ever. Far too tedious to go into details - but let's just say I was contemplating throwing myself out of the window until I remembered we don't live in a high rise flat. Knowing my luck, if I had thrown myself out I'd have ended up being even more pissed off having to hobble around on crutches - cos that's the kind of thing that happens when you chuck yourself out the window in an impetuous fit and find yourself embedded two foot below the windowsill in the pot plants.

So when you're feeling down it's always good to think of positive things. So let's think.... um..um..um...

I am not dead. Yeah, that's a good one. I mean being dead could be a real pisser. Especially if there turns out to be no afterlife - well not that you'd know about it. Now that's a double whammy if you ask me.

I could have put on more weight. (Hmm... could be kidding myself there - there's only so much one can put on in two weeks without spontaneously combusting.)

I haven't reversed into any cars, people, cats, bins, lamp posts and gates for some considerable time. (That's as much as I'm prepared to qualify.)

I love listening to Rick laugh on Pawn Stars. He's great. Have you seen that show? It's like the UK Antiques Roadshow - only it's interesting. I'm not saying Antiques Roadshow isn't  interesting at all - but I've got to the point where I could spot a piece of Fabergé at hundred paces. Anyway, I'm bored watching skinny Fiona Bruce fawning over filigree china - even if there's no interesting stuff on Pawn Stars (and there usually is) I can spend the entire programme just trying to work out how many Big Macs Rick, Big Huss, Chumlee and The Old Man have eaten in the last week/month/year/eternity. And that isn't an easy job.

I have started writing a new novel. It's a comedy. I think it's gonna be good. I haven't quite figured how I write comedy when I feel crap. I must have a disorder. You're supposed to write poetry and literary masterpieces - and I write comedy. Life is so unfair. I am destined never to be a literary genius. Harlequin Mills and Boon here I come.

Right that's it. I got up at 1am and now it's nearly 4am. Crikey, I've spent all that time messing around on my blog when I could've watched six episodes of  Pawn Stars.