“That sounds on the low side to me,” said the agent,
but assuming it's correct we get a figure of one hundred and ten million three hundred and seventy-six thousand seconds in forty-two years.
“To continue: you live alone with your elderly mother, as we know.”
You spend a good hour with the old woman every day, that's to say, you sit and talk to her although she's so deaf she can scarcely hear a word.”
That counts as more time wasted - fifty-five million one hundred and eighty-eight thousand seconds, to be precise.
You also keep a budgerigar, a needless extravagance whose demands on your time amount to fifteen minutes a day,
or thirteen million seven hundred and ninety-seven thousand seconds in forty-two years.
“B-but -” Mr Figaro broke in, imploringly. “Don't interrupt!” snapped the agent, his chalk racing faster and faster across the mirror.
Your mother's arthritic as well as deaf, so you have to do most of the housework.
You go shopping, clean shoes and perform other chores of a similar nature. How much time does that consume daily?
“An hour, maybe, but -” “So you've already squandered another fifty-five million one hundred and eighty-eight thousand seconds, Mr Figaro.”
“We also know you go to the cinema once a week, sing with a social club once a week, go drinking twice a week,”
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