We can call in sick when we can't work. Why can't we call in lazy? My mental health should be as important as my physical health. I know that if you are lucky, you have vacation days that you can use. But those are planned in advance, scheduled. I'm talking about something more spontaneous.
There should be room in modern life for days where you don't do much of anything. As I write this, I am in my pajamas, with a nice warm fleece robe wrapped around me. I have a cup of hot tea, my feet up on the coffee table. The bright sunshine is streaming in through the windows. It's chilly, but the hiss of the radiators promises warmth to come. I've just finished a leisurely breakfast, the kind I don't get to have during the week -- perfectly fried eggs, toast, veggie sausage, more tea. I read the paper because I had the time.
I don't have to do a damn thing today. Nothing. I can take a walk if I want. Or not. Maybe read a little. If it warms up I might throw the ball for the dog. Or not. It might be a great day to make a pot of soup or bake some bread. Or not.
What lazy really means is that I have the luxury of taking the day as it comes. No goals. No agenda. I can waste time, squander opportunity, live large or small. I can allow for serendipity, for the happy accidents that normally pass by unnoticed, for chance and circumstance. There is space for life to happen in its own way, outside of time.
Would it be so bad, if we just took a lazy day when we felt the need?
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