Monday Afternoon

My lat­est install­ment in my forth­com­ing book, How to Make the Most of Unem­ploy­ment: or Fail­ing That, At Least Get By, focus­es on Mon­day after­noons and what to do about them.

For instance, when a mon­day after­noon falls on, or near the first of the month, take a few min­utes to slip into your neigh­bor­hood bank branch (mine is a Fleet) and cash some child­hood sav­ings bonds. Not only will this activ­i­ty inject you with some much need­ed cash, to say, pay your land­lord, but more impor­tant­ly it will enter­tain you to wit­ness the hoops the Teller must jump through just to cash the damn things. The process is ardu­ous. The minor annoy­ance of hav­ing to sign your name and address to each one is eas­i­ly off­set by the amus­ing­ly end­less key­strokes, stamp­ing, and shuf­fling required on the part of the Teller. (Note to edi­tor, cut those adverbs out of that sentence)

So, after enjoy­ing the show, for the bet­ter part of thir­ty min­utes, you’re hand­ed a lit­tle slip of paper “for tax pur­pos­es”. This is bonus enter­tain­ment, for you know damn well that not pos­sess­ing an income negates the require­ment that you file a 1099. Ha!

Now that you’ve left the bank, and you’re prob­a­bly dread­ing the walk back home, where you spend 22+ hours a day, I’d sug­gest you stop into the liquor store for a 12-pack of What­ev­er Is On Sale, and a bag of cheap rolling tobac­co. Noth­ing livens up a Mon­day after­noon like a few beers and a hand-rolled fun stick. You may even ash your cig in the garbage can, because hell, you’ll be there to take care of it, should the thing ignite.

Presto! It’s already 3:30. You’re almost home free. Now, just rinse, repeat, and you’ll be ready for when the wife/husband/employed room­mate gets home.

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