Lazy is as Lazy Does

I've been worrying that I have just become way too laid back. Seriously. If I have to do more than two errands in a single day, I feel put out and rushed. I had to drive to the bank this morning, okay, this afternoon after I rolled out of bed around 10:30, and since I had to stop for gas (ouch!), I decided to skip my planned stop at Total Wine, because stopping for gas had taken too much time and I didn't want to be too late having my Ladles lunch of a bacon, granny smith apple and cream cheese sandwich (super-yum-O).

See? I'm lazy. Slothful even.

Yesterday, I vacuumed two rugs, swept one floor, dusted three rooms, a-friend-is-coming-over cleaned the front bathroom, and lit a couple of candles. All that work entitled me, in my slothful view, to watch, quite guilt-free three episodes of The Tudors. And, oh my my, weren't they some randy little royals back then?

A young boy once told me, with a heavy sigh, that there were just "too many gotta do's and not enough wanna do's" in his life. He died when he was fifteen.

I'm just trying to do as many "wanna do's" and as few "gotta do's" as I can responsibly get away with.

I've done the whirlwind life style. I've played the full time work, full time mommy, full time housekeeper game. I've done the going to school working mommy. I've run after my own ass for 20 hours a day and gotten up to do it all again the next day.

So I tell myself I've earned the right to be lazy. I've earned the right to slow down and only smell the roses I want to smell.


Loki sez: So basically, you've become a cat.