I bought a forty cent chocolate the other day and then forgot. So today, on my way to my 2:30pm breakfast I was able to hold myself over with the new snack discovery I had in my pocket. YAY! I recognize that my defense of laziness by stating the fun things it allows me to experience is reaching overkill, but what about defending forgetfulness and filth? Here we go:
When one walks into my room, the first one that one will think is “How the fuck can someone exist in this enclosed, humid, stinky dungeon that looks like what would have been left of a thrift store in Dresden in late 1945?” The drawers are pretty much empty, but the floor is full of the things that should be making the drawers not empty. Why? Because that way I can stand at the door and look around and see everything I could possibly need to see. Including that ice cream sandwich wrapper from three days ago and that half eaten bag of chips. Who knows when I might need any of that stuff?
I once lived for a week off of the things in my pockets. I had no money and I just would search around in different pockets of sports coats for change and snacks, and I ate for two weeks. So, I have a backup plan, and it is contained within the extra cloth on the inside of my jackets.
My forgetfulness and filthiness serves a purpose.
This entry is about me defending the things I do already out of laziness by claiming a higher purpose. While I always assume shit comes from either nature or nurture, I have a hard time finding where this laziness comes from in my family. My parents worked really hard their whole lives, and their parents worked even harder. Then I received this email from my Dad:
i just placed an order for a glare blocker for the mac book so we could possibly sit outside. when it came to giving the guy my credit card number, i had this flash that i knew the number by heart. why i don’t know. it’s not that i use it very often. so i began giving the guy some numbers and realized i better have the card out to at least check. i gave him the first 4 numbers before i had the card out. they were wrong. so i made the correction.
however, i put a finger across the other numbers believing i still knew them all and continued. the next for numbers were also wrong. so i dumped that idea.
when he asked for the expiration date i quickly rattled off what i thought it was without looking. why? it too was wrong.
i did turn the card over to get the 3 digit code.
so here was my thought process. when he asked for the card number i immediately knew there were lots of 2s in it. so i began with a 2 and things flowed smoothly from there. the problem arose when it turned out that there aren’t an extraordinary amount of 2s and the fact that our credit card number doesn’t even start with a 2.
It’s not the laziness that got passed on, but rather doing things that are actively harmful to living life appropriately/comfortably, but then attempting to defend them only to come to the resolution: Okay, maybe I’m wrong, but I’m happy so whatever.