Alternatives to work.

Each morning, my housemate and I talk. 'I don't want to go to work today. Let's:

Go to Brighton'

Steal some sperm from our boyfriends, have three or four fat babies and live on benefits'

Ring each other in sick'

Watch all the DVDs we own'

Lie on the sofa with the curtains drawn'

Pretend it's snowing and we can't get down the path'

Have a drill for what we'd do if the door swelled shut'

Just quit'

Sit in a coffee shop'

Drop out'

Forget it'

Have a duvet day'

Hold each other hostage'

Bake banana bread and muffins and sell them to hungry office workers'

Wait in for the boiler man'

Go fishing'

Buy a stack of women's magazines and make bitchy comments about celebrities'

Make another pot of tea'

Go back to bed'

Pretend we've broken up with our boyfriends and need to have a day off'

Drink a hot chocolate in every coffee shop in town'

Eat a second breakfast'

Miss the bus and fail to catch the train'

Lose our keys'

Have really bad women's problems'

Claim a cat that we really like has died'

Watch daytime TV'

Go back to sleep'

Pretend we are too posh to work'

Acquire some sugar daddies'

Sit in the window and sew'

Clean the kitchen until it shines with an Arctic whiteness'

Work from home'

Knit yards and yards of scarf'

Embroider our lives on a table cloth'

Look after our parents'

Go to the cinema when the sun is shining'

Watch a film and cry'

Suffer from non-specific malaise'

Light an aromatherapy candle'

Call up our burlesque teacher and ask for a class'

Doze'

Go and see our beauty lady'

Wait in for parcels of clothes'

Have absolutely nothing to wear'

But we never do.