I am astounded at lazy people. Not laziness. I am quite fond of long bouts of laziness. I’m talking about inherently lazy, won’t-go-out-of-their-way-without-being-talked-to kind of people. Bare minimum to get the job done types. People who never see beyond the current task, and who do not care to. No initiative, just excuses. These people crawl me up and down, side to side, and make me nuts.
I’m also not talking about the sit-the-new-toilet-paper-roll-on-top-of-the-old-roll type of people. I consider that rebellion, not laziness. You can’t put Baby in a corner with toilet paper.
Also, I firmly believe that one can be as lazy and slack as desired in one’s own house/apartment, and while it’s a fine line – maybe the same goes one’s car. Your personal space is the safe zone. Unless invited, no one has to see your dirty laundry. Life is busy. Dirty shorts on the floor does not a true slug make.
But when you haul your dirty shorts and empty toilet paper rolls to work, and wear them in the backpack of your outside life, that’s just plain gross. [And by the way, this post absolutely does not apply to anyone at my current place of employment, so don’t assume, people.]
Here’s the scoop:
Do your job. Everyone once in a while (ah-hem…I mean always) go above and beyond the call of the job – even if it’s just slightly above, or a mere tad beyond. Just something. Write a note. Come up with a schedule, a plan, a solution, no matter how small. Take some freaking initiative, so your employer knows you’re a living, breathing, thinking creature. Don’t be a pet rock (weird and useless) because you’re most likely going to get triple skipped across a distant lake. Don’t tell people about your dirty laundry. Especially your lingerie. Keep it to yourself. Less is best. Imagination is the enemy in the working world. And don’t sleep on the job, no matter what. At work, your eyes remain open. Unless you work at a sleep clinic and you are the new CPAP machine tester.
Ah, I feel better.
Moral of the story: don’t be a lazy pet rock.
In the vein of the actual blog genre…. Today was my second day of physical therapy for my bum hip. New therapist. Awesome. No, really. This PT lady was awesome. She had elbows and fingers and wrists tearing apart the teeny tiny hip muscles, deep down in my soul. I hurt like the devil now, but I’m told that’s progress. My goal: get back on the spin bike Christmas eve. Implement super vegan crazy diet on Christmas Day. And get moving hard core by January 15. That gives me four solid months before crazy land of St. Anthony’s.
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