Immediately after I quit my job last year, I looked forward to a month of staying in the Great Indoors and do absolutely nothing.
You got that right, San Mig Light: nothing — just laying about, lollygagging, drifting in and out, like a vegetable fitted with a mediocre human mind (i.e., a set of string beans with brains, a drunkard with an intense hangover, a certain Philippine president, etc.)