I’m tempted when in the street being asked if I have change, replying "no, I haven’t", and handing over a $20 note.
I’m tempted to stick "Keep left unless overtaking" signs on the escalators at Parliament station so the 2% of people who haven’t worked out escalator etiquette will get the hell out of my way.
I’m tempted to take all the speakerphones belonging to people at work who don’t have their own offices and replace them with non-speakerphones.
I’m tempted to spend all of Saturday sitting at home, eating chips and pizza, drinking beer, and catching up on all the movies over the past decade that I meant to go see but didn’t get around to. Or maybe I’d just end up watching all of The Young Ones and Bottom.
I’m tempted to let the grass and bushes in the garden grow into a jungle.
I’m tempted not to tell the Tax Office I’ve moved.
I’m tempted to never get the car serviced again, to just run it into the ground, then replace it. With something cool, like a new Mini.
I’m tempted to blow a bunch of money and/or frequent flyer points on a holiday somewhere far away and exotic.
I’m tempted to eat all the Tim Tams in the packet.
I’m tempted to upgrade my mobile phone to one of those superduper ones with a camera and Java games and all sorts of other diversions for the train ride home.
I’m tempted to ring up work and tell them I can’t be arsed going in, and then spend the day in bed reading the paper and munching on toast.
I’m tempted to climb over the bonnet of the next car that stops blocking the pedestrian crossing that I’m trying to use.
I’m tempted to poke my head through the trapdoor in the ceiling, to have a look around with a torch and try and see if I can spot the possum I suspect has been doing callisthenics up there.
I’m tempted to buy every Doctor Who DVD available and watch them all back to back.
I’m tempted to get this PC upgraded. I’m sure it didn’t used to be this slow.
I’m tempted to go for a long long bike ride this weekend.
I’m tempted to buy a pinball machine so I can play pinball in the comfort of my own home.
I’m tempted to scrap the spam-ridden e-mail address I’ve been using for the last 7 years and get a new one.
I’m tempted to dance naked in the moonlight in my back yard. Maybe when it’s warmer.
I’m tempted to go right through the house, chucking out anything that I know for certain I haven’t used, looked at, or thought of using, in the last 6 months.
I’m tempted to drop what I’m doing and get to bed by 11 tonight.
but I probably won’t.