I embraced the deadly sin of sloth. Wrapped my arms around that big fluffy afghan of Doing Nothing, Not a Gol-Darn Thing, and plunked my self right in the center of it. Dishes in the sink? Check. Crumbs and litter on the floor? Check. Children plugged in too many minutes to count? Check. Unshowered, unshaven, unshellacked? Check. Eschewing an alarm clock, I opted to rise at my leisure. I moved from bed to card table in the center of the living room where a 1000 piece puzzle sat waiting. I grunted unintelligibly at Team Testosterone and let them fend for themselves at breakfast time. I picked up Freedom and got lost in Patty and Walter's problems for another hour.
Then both my cell phone and house phone rang at the same time.
On the cell was my BFF wanting to dish about Christmas. On the land line was Mr. D wanting to take his family to breakfast in 20 minutes. I glanced over at Team Testosterone--in pajamas, teeth unbrushed, engrossed in racing Mario and Donkey Kong and Yoshi around a track. "Sure!"
In 20 minutes I had commandeered the brushing of teeth and changing into street clothes whilst tying my hair back. So long as no one sat too near us, they'd never know how funky we smelled.
After pancakes and eggs and cheese curds (!), we returned to our Scheduled Day of Sloth. We snacked on Christmas cookies and made more of a mess on the living room carpet with game pieces. I read, they gamed. I slid puzzle pieces into place, they played with toys. My unproductivity reached an all-time high while the house fell into further disarray and Mr. D returned from a day of work to find me drinking tea out of a dirty coffee cup, rinsed out at the sink because the dishwasher was full of dirty dishes and I'd forgotten to run it. He may or may not have regarded me with some disgust. My sole accomplishments all day? Finishing the puzzle, 200 pages of the book and most of the caramel corn. I rallied before bedtime and shoved a load of laundry into the washing machine. My sole contribution to managing the household. Tomorrow would be a new day. I'd shed laziness and return to my post refreshed and ready to roll.
Still, it felt good, all that sloth. I never lay around all day unless I'm really sick and then I can't enjoy how luxurious it feels to do absolutely nothing.
Spill it, reader. Do you ever indulge in a little sloth? Regularly or once in a blue moon?
Don't forget: December's FABULOUS is a handmade trio of wool hand mitts, raspberry jam (homegrown, too!) and good-for-you granola. How can you win? Each comment in the comment box is an entry--I'll announce the lucky winner Monday!
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