Write a novel in which all of the characters’ names sound vaguely like soups (Tom Young, Angus Pacio, Clem Crowther, Minny Strong, Cullen Skink…)
“Do” a photographic essay called ‘Kingston: the grubby jewel at the end of the #7 line’ (Aside: what’s the appropriate verb for photo essays??).
In conversation, describe someone’s hair as ‘tonsured’.
Invent some way of indicating which cubicle in the men’s room was used most recently… so you can avoid it. (This is less related to personal hygiene than it is that awkward moment when you enter the men’s room, find a colleague washing his hands and have a 1 in 3 chance of choosing the same cubicle he has just vacated -- because you know that to him it will seem as if you chose his cubicle when in fact you tried in vain to avoid it). (Perhaps a display on each door showing 1 [most recently used] to 3 [least recently used] or a timer “minutes since use”? Or perhaps a pressure sensitive floor that turns red when stepped on, then goes orange, then green after a period of time?)
Conduct an experiment to see if fingernail growth is affected by the amount of typing done in a given week.
Stop clenching my teeth. Jeez.
Find jicama seeds (or seedlings, even better) to plant in my garden.
Wait for jicama-planting season.
Become impervious to physical pain like those dudes in the kung fu movies I watched when I was a kid.
On the bus: ask the person next to me what the fastest fish is (without Googling it beforehand).