Get-Up-And-Go? Nah.

I am one of the laziest people you will ever meet. And getting lazier all the time. I know you are surprised, nay, shocked, to hear this. I’m sure I come across as a very energetic, spry, woman with lots of gumption and get-up-and-go. Despite the fact that I get up at 5am every weekday to drag my flabby ass to the gym, this is not true. I have no gumption: when I get to the gym I take the elevator, rather than walk the two, short flights. See? Lazy.

When I get home I usually run over the newspaper at the foot of my driveway. I say usually because my intentions are always to pull the car up right along side of it, so I can open the door and grab it as I pass by. It’s the difficulties I have getting lined up just right, that usually result in me running it over instead. Why don’t I just get out of the car to get it? Do you need to ask? I’m too lazy. And forget about actually parking the car and walking down the driveway to get it. That’s just silly. I don’t even do that to get the mail. Let me remind you that I pay someone to deliver that newspaper, and until he finally heeds my request written in bold every year in the Christmas card I stick a couple of $20s in, to PLEASE put my newspaper at the front door, I refuse to walk down the driveway to pick it up. Who does he think he is messing with? As far as the mail, my mailbox is pret-ty big, and I can wait at least three days before emptying it. By the time it’s full I can bribe Charlie to jump out of the car on our way home from school to empty it.

When I go food shopping I allot extra time for the parking lot. Not to walk from the farthest reaches, but to circle the lot for ten minutes or more until the perfect spot empties. That’s the one adjacent to the handicapped spots. And don’t tell me if you are one of those annoying people who think we non-crippled people should keep those spots for the elderly or the pregnant…they are meant for lazy people. And that’s me.

When I go out to dinner I am usually too lazy to read the menu. Even more so lately, when I can’t really see the letters. Ugh, what a hassle to dig through my purse for reading glasses and then try to hold the “ambiance” candle at the right angle to shed light on the damn thing, burning my fingers in the process and then to actually having to read all those long descriptions of the dishes, and then trying and decide what to have….it’s just exhausting. It’s much easier to ask the waiter what the best dish is. Of course I conduct a short interview first, to make sure I would agree with his sensibilities…and then make my decision based on that. If I think he knows what he’s talking about I go with his recommendation. If I so much as dislike his hairstyle, or he has bad teeth, or he is pretending to have an Italian accent because it’s an Italian restaurant but his name is Jorge, I’m not going to order the Bolognese no matter how much he loves it. My method is certainly not fool proof, but I don’t expend any extra energy and that works out well for a lazy girl like me. By the time food is put in front of me I’m usually three sheets to the wind anyway, and won’t even remember what it tastes like.

The worst example of my laziness happens during the middle of the night. Have you ever met anyone so lazy she won’t even get out of bed to pee? How do you do, I’m D.Parker. Yes I would rather lie in a half-sleep state, wiggling away, for hours, than get up and walk to the bathroom. My rationale? I am worried the walk will wake me up too much and I’ll have trouble falling back asleep. I know what you’re thinking, “D.Parker, lying in bed trying not to wet yourself will keep you up as well!” Don’t you know you can’t argue logic with a lazy person? Hopefully I’m not far off from the days when it will be acceptable for me to wear a diaper. Which will be a true convenience for the daytime, as I am frequently too lazy to go to the bathroom during normal waking hours as well.

Perhaps I’d have more gumption if I took vitamins. Of course we’ll never know, because I’m too lazy to take them. I stopped reading my ebook because I grew weary of tapping the edge of my iPad to turn the page. I have been known to call Charlie on his cell phone to come downstairs because “I need to talk to you,” and once he’s in front of me, ask him to “pour Mommy another glass of wine.” I am trying to teach my dog to drink out of the toilet because I hate refilling her waterbowl. I will rewash clothes that come out of the dryer wrinkled, sometimes two or three times, just to avoid ironing them. The mere thought of having to edit this piece makes my lazybone ache. I’m even too lazy to come up with another sentence to wrap it all up.

See what I mean?