Oy, such a miserable morning to walk a dog. A streaming rain fell as traffic hissed on wet, puddled pavement. It was windy and it was cold; raindrops landed like icy shrapnel. The sky was a grim, leaking canopy of despair, utterly cheerless.
Nevertheless, there we were, plashing along a marshy sidewalk. I, as you might expect, grew increasingly aggrieved with each squelching footstep, but even the dog, an easygoing sort, seemed offended by the punishing weather. She didn’t dawdle, she’d no interest in sniffing the grass or investigating litter, she was resolute and focused. So I stuffed her with treats, the way people do a Pez dispenser, and we rocketed home in record time.
Simply walking through the door set the world right again. The rain didn’t matter; wind and cold became irrelevant; I was surrounded by the cozy warmth of home. Turning on the lights chased away the gloom, the smell of coffee filled the air, and contentment bubbled up from my toes — I was exactly where I wanted to be. I was safe and snug in my sweet little bolt-hole.
The couch called to me, loud and insistent, so I tucked myself into my best slacker wear — woolly socks and boxer shorts — and crawled under the duvet with Van Morrison, coffee, and my laptop. That’s where I spent the whole rest of the day, frittering, an activity at which I excel. I accomplished nothing and, frankly, it was dee-lightful.
Try it sometime. Forget about being responsible and diligent, be a lazy, good-for-nothing bum for a day. It’s cheaper than liquor and more fun than a lobotomy; call it an attitude adjustment if it helps. Done properly, malingering is very life enhancing.
copyright © 2017 the whirly girl