2003-12-12 - 4:34 p.m.

My unplanned unpaid vacation didn�t really turn into the eruption of creativity that I�d perhaps hoped for, and in fact nothing of note was accomplished. Not a single book chapter, not a long overdue haul of my portfolio, not even a badly thought out gag, apart from the one directed at that Jewish comedian the tale of which I ended up deleting from my diary. Instead of writing, I participated in the creative process in more of an observational capacity - that is, by watching loads of telly and DVDs.

If you�d offered me a full five days to indulge my every creative whim at any other time, I expect my colon would have prolapsed in excitement, but as it is, I squandered the entire week on the premise that everyone is �winding down for Christmas� and it�s not really worth starting anything, an excuse that I also re-applied on a more local scale when it reached Wednesday of this week � I was over the half way mark, what point was there in beginning anything NOW?

I�m half tempted to apply it to the rest of my life and take the pressure right off. Not that there IS any pressure when you�re so far down the ladder that you might as well be on sewer detail. It�s not like the publishers are breathing down my neck for that final draft.

I hate to be the gazillimonth person to say that tonight is the work�s Christmas party. But tonight IS the work�s Christmas party � the only chance the editorial department (of three people) get to meet the other 97,234 people that work for the company in an office block several miles away. As if these things aren�t bad enough, it�s like going to someone else�s, and you don�t need that. Still, may as well take advantage of the free bar before next week, when I�m back at work and bound to be whining like a pasty brat about how little spare time I have.