An Ode to Laziness
A Life Less Lived
My laziness will save me.
Save me from making the trip to the grocery store, being surrounded by people, sneezing, coughing, “what’re you doing”-ing.
My laziness will save me, save me from waking up and “seizing the day!” Why, why should I. Honestly. When my bed is so lovely and comfortable and warm, and the world outside is so cruel and detached and cold.
I see the people around me; elderly gentlemen driven by something internal to collect and curate the lovely things people have created and be fascinated by the stories they hold. A partner who is passionate about learning more, reading more, doing more.
A burn to learn that was gently doused by the sands of my beach that likes to while its time away, doing nothing more than make waves.
Make waves. That involves effort, too.
My laziness will save me from going out and about, holidaying in places where, god forbid, we might run into someone, “shady types ya!”, who might rape or pillage or steal.
It will save me from putting things out there only to have them rejected because “it’s not what we’re looking for right now”, “but could you maybe tweak it this way? It’ll work for us then”.
Save me from having to deal with mother, father, sister, brother, friend, foe or anybody else who’s so easy to displease, but propriety indicates that you stay polite and never say what’s on your mind.
My laziness will save me from ever putting my thoughts down.
My laziness will save me from expressing myself.
My laziness will save me from hitting publish.
My laziness… it should save me.