My Dog

A fun thing about my dog is that you can totally see what's going on in his head. He doesn't point and he's not one of those dogs, like a Jack Russel, that have a different bark for every occasion to help get his point across.  But you look at him and it's so obvious what he's thinking.

The other day I let him out to do his business and he walked down the walkway.  Another dog was barking a few houses down.  My boy stood at the end of the walk and looked to the other house with the barking dog.  I could see what was going through his mind, something like "I like to bark too.  I should go and see you and we can bark together."  He looked around, like he knew he was trying to be sneaky.  He started to sidle, insofar as a dog can, off of the walk, an inch at a time.  Then I could tell he was thinking, "I'm not supposed to do this, but maybe I can get away with it."  But then he had misgivings, like "Maybe I'm not supposed to" and he looked back to the house and saw me at the door.  I gave him the scowl and told him, "Don't do it."  He snorted and came into the house.

I watch him try to casually insinuate himself between guests and food.  I watch as he looks around to see if anyone's looking when one of the especially fluffy, and to his palate tasty, baby toys are left on the floor.

Maybe I've spent too much time with my pal Doolin.  Or maybe we speak some kind of cross-species man code.  Or maybe he's really wishing that I should get a life and stop staring at him.

Laziness

A fun thing about laziness is that there are no rules.  There are tons of ways to be lazy, and while many of them are entirely common, there are sometimes surprising new ways.

Before I begin, I'd like to state that I'm not generally considered lazy.  I put in ridiculously long hours of grueling tedious work, but sometimes stopping before the job is done can be so satisfying.

I'm not talking about standard lazy like quitting the leaf raking halfway through to have a beer and watch the football game. That's easy.  I'm talking lazy the average person would even dream of doing.  The other day I was at the gas pump tanking up.  I drive a little car, which only takes ten gallons of gas.  I filled about four gallons and I had a strong impulse to quit it.  It wasn't cold out.  Money wasn't the issue.  I didn't have anywhere else to be.  I just wanted to get in the car and go.  I would've save maybe ninety seconds of my life.  To me that's advanced lazy.  Lazy for the sake of lazy.

I usually take a vitamin in the morning.  It's intended to help with the terribly unbalanced diet I eat.  Some days I look at the pill bottle and just say, 'No.  I don't think so.'  Why?  I'm not really sure.  I'm right there, pill bottle almost in hand.  And how much time does it take to swallow a pill?  I have water in my other hand.  I wouldn't even have to get it.  Again, a small thing, but that's what makes it advanced lazy.

So I challenge you out there.  Think about the most senseless act of lazy you can.  Not skipping flossing.  That's basic lazy.  Something pointless, like not adding cream to your coffee, even though that's how you like it, because you just don't feel like stirring.  Think about it and then do it, or don't.  There's freedom in lazy.