Lazy

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Will bribe for friends

Monday, July 4th, 2011

By this time on Saturday, I had already climbed to the top of the highest mountain in Colorado.

Annie Parsons - Mt. Elbert

Today, I am still in my pajamas, drinking coffee, and trying to figure out how I’m going to survive today’s heat.  I think I’ll bake for the neighbors in hopes of being invited to their BBQ that I overheard them talking about through my office window when they were on their front porch.

You wish I was joking.  I kind of wish I was joking, too, but… the cake is in the oven.

In search of motivation

Wednesday, September 22nd, 2010

I think that the best way to get me to do something is for someone to tell me that they don’t think I can do it.

Actually, here’s how it really goes.  Someone tells me that they don’t think I can do it, and I believe them.  I get sad and discouraged.  I probably cry a little bit.  I walk around with a dazed focus, like I’m trying to solve a Magic Eye picture but to no avail.  I feel helpless and defeated.

Then, I get angry.

Then, I get defensive.

Then, I get motivated.

Then, I get so staggeringly stubborn, there’s no way on earth I won’t achieve whatever it is that someone has said that I won’t do.

So.

Will someone please tell me that they don’t think I can roll over my 403b into my 401k?  It’s been on the to-do list for 3 years now.  I mean, come on.

And while you’re at it, can you tell me that you don’t think I’ll EVER get renter’s insurance?  Or perhaps that I will live without knobs on the top two drawers of my dresser for the rest of my life?  Or that I’ll eat cookies forever, and without ceasing?

Thanks.

Confessions of a lazy dog walker

Monday, November 19th, 2007

Anyone who knows me can tell you that I am a responsible soul. I show up when I say I will. I get things done. I check things off a to-do list like no one else. I do more than my fair-share of the class project. I help with the dishes, I pay my bills, I always restock the toilet paper.

But nobody’s perfect.

There are a few instances in which my diligence and responsibility are lacking. When my paper coffee cup is empty, I’ll sometimes leave it on the grocery store shelf, as I am too lazy to find a trash can (and hello – I have shopping to do). I have been known to throw my gum out of the car window – which is risky if you believe in “gum karma,” as I do. I am a firm believer that if one disposes of their gum in an irresponsible way, they will step in something sticky within 6 months. Don’t believe me? I dare you to try it.

However, the most audacious and careless thing that I do involves taking dogs on walks. Friends, I cannot bring myself to clean up dog poop. The conscientious dog-walker comes prepared with grocery sacks, ready to swoop down and scoop up whatever mess has been left in the neighbor’s flower garden. But I? Stand there, feigning ignorance, looking around casually until the dog is done doing his business. And then we swiftly walk away.

This is awful – I know it. It is disrespectful and rash. But the thought of cleaning it up is just so gross. I cannot handle the act of handling crap. Short of lugging an actual shovel with me, cleaning up after the dog would require me to actually feel the still-warm poop through the plastic bag. And that, my friends, is something that I am just unwilling to do.

However, I am beginning to believe that the same principle that comes into play with “gum karma” is true in this case, as well. Let’s call it “crap karma.”

This morning, I took Rowdy, the largest of my parent’s dogs, on a long walk. As usual, he did his business – in several carefully manicured lawns – and we quickly moved on. As we continued along the bike path, we came to a stretch of asphalt that falls underneath some power lines. And this is what I saw:


I should have known. But similar to Daniel in the Lion’s Den, or Natalie Maines at a concert in Dallas, I marched boldly into the line of fire. And you guys, quite literally, a shit storm ensued.

It was a Hiroshima of excrement. Droppings dropping all around me, I squealed and ran, Rowdy oblivious to the absolute HORROR that we were experiencing. It was as if the sky opened up and God boomed, “REPENT, ye woman of unclean morals… and unclean shirt, haha!”

Luckily, my hair remained untouched. But my shirt is most definitely splattered. And sadly, I STILL don’t know if this experience will be enough for me to start cleaning up after the dogs. I mean, I have my standards.