Better yet, ask my younger sister, Jolene. She’ll be happy to give you the details of my laziness. How, while we were growing up, I never did one single chore, and she was forced to do everything. (Cue the violins…) When she tells the story, she’s Cinderella, and I’m all of the ugly stepsisters! I can see the little mice flocking around her feet even as I type this! (If you’re reading this, Jolene, remember, I love you, and since we’re grown up, it’s not fair to beat me up anymore!)
Yes, I am lazy. (But not quite that lazy!) I’ve never denied it. As a matter of fact, I’m good at doing nothing. I excel at sitting around. That is not necessarily a good thing. I’m looking around my apartment right now and realizing that my laziness has caught up with me once again.
I try to keep on top of the housework, really, I do. The kitchen is always clean, the bed gets made almost every day, and I keep things dust-free — most of the time. But there are areas that I let go too long. Like laundry. I hate doing laundry. Of course, if I didn’t have to save up quarters, and drag the hamper down the endless hallway to the spooky laundry room, I might do laundry more often. Who knows? Stranger things have happened.
I swept the floors this morning while I was waiting for the kettle to boil for my tea, and was going to mop, but got distracted. Maybe once I’m done with this post, I’ll finish the floors, vacuum and clean the bathroom. Then I can justify ignoring the laundry for a few more days.
(For the record, Jolene rules.)