Wee Break

Like a midget in the mail room, this will be a short post.

I am on holiday.

I am not, however, sunning myself on a tropical beach, tapping away at the keyboard from under the welcoming shade of a mature palm tree, lavishing in the five star resort's wireless broadband connection.

No. I am at home, staring at the grey mist outside the window, mulling over which of the 45,332 odd jobs around the house I will do next. And I still have another week and a half of a work-free existence.

So far today, I've been an electrician, housekeeper, picture hanger, dishwasher and joiner (carpeneter to the uninitiated). And it's all been done with my usual half-arsed approach. My motto has always been: "If a job is worth doing, it's worth doing badly, quickly and bad tempered." I have exceeded at this.

Following this brief bacon roll respite, I will resume my duties as super-husband and become a plumber, computer technician, interor designer and serial shopper.

There's every chance I will also become drinker.

I think I deserve it.