The Sore Back

Fresh from a day of lounging around doing nothing in particular, I am now amazed at the depths of laziness to which I've sunk.

Oh sure, today started off with an early morning trip into town for blood tests, 2 quick visits to friends on the way home, dealing with correspondence, and finally lunch with Daughter...so I could say that I've had a "busy" day. I did do a lot of walking, and at some point or other my lower back began to hurt just the teensiest bit.

But was that from the walking, or from the lounging around?

Now let's get a few facts straight: I am moving in June. In around 10 weeks, approximately. I have packing to do. And, as everybody knows, before packing one goes through one's things and edits (gets rid of) one's belongings.

But there was no evidence of such admirable activity.

I also have a big, three-part quilt project that I've lately begun, and no pun intended. See, 4 or 5 years ago I taught a group of elementary school children the fundamentals of quilting. Well, one of the youngsters' father died, a sad story. He urged his mother to contact me regarding making a quilt out of his father's clothing. Three quilts, in fact - there's a sister, and one for mom as well.

So I've had this clothing with me through two moves so far, and we're looking at 3 years since I agreed to take this project on now. Hence, "lately" begun... For most of the 3 years I've been referring to this project as "the dead guy's quilts," however recently Boyfriend talked me into using a more positive phraseology about it. "The Memories Project" is now the going phrase, having a slightly less negative ring to it.

I've had this week off work because I had vacation days to use up, and I could have been working on the Memories Project.

But no... it rests peacefully undisturbed by activity.

I've had a week off, and I've accomplished precisely nothing at all. To quote Garfield, "if I were any lazier, I'd slip into a coma."

Is my back sore from walking, or from scooching on the couch for too long? I think, left to my own devices, I could quite happily do nothing whatsoever, for an astonishing length of time!

This state of abject worthlessness as a human being quite flummoxes me. I had no idea what indolence I was capable of.

Hell, I've even out-lazied the cat!

Getting On With It

I have an undisciplined nature. I know what I should be doing at any given time on any given day, but lack any internal stimulus. I am one of those unfortunate souls graced by the Deadly Sin of Sloth. The movie "7" filled me with dread when I beheld the unfortunate victim of the serial killer who choose to tie the man down to a table so that movement was impossible... the man, according to the script, basically rotted alive, ate his own tongue in fact, in a desperate attempt to assuage his hunger.

Yes, a freakish tale, and most unlikely: hunger will prompt even the laziest among us to waddle to the fridge in search of something to eat... Yet the scene still upset me because I feared, at the time, that I was in fact, slothful.

Now, there are times when I'm filled with energy and enthusiasm and am a veritable perpetual-motion machine. Preparing for guests, for instance, creates an absolute flurry of activity. Laundry is done, floors are washed, surfaces cleared off, shopping done, delicacies prepared, at breakneck speed.

Christmas is one of those times I am capable of an enormous output of activity. The schedule looms large: making sure I see this person and that person on the correct date with gifts in hand... That particular "festive" time can make me, and many thousands of others, appear like Tasmanian Devils.

Whoosh! - off to the mall, and whoosh! - make a gift, and whoosh! - receive guests....

Dizzying degrees of activity.

And then, with a sudden THUMP, like 40 inches of snow delivered overnight, it stops.

And I stop, too.

Yesterday, I noticed around noon that I had no bread left. Today, also around noon, I finally went out to get some. But not because I felt the need to: no, because there was no food for Bijou to eat. If not for her, I wouldn't have bothered. The fact that I must return to work tomorrow, and therefore bring something for my lunch, didn't enter into it. That's tomorrow's problem.

No, today I had toast because I HAD to make food for my cat.

I caught up on Facebook today. Sent some emails. Looked up some comics on the web. Read a book for an hour. Napped. Did some laundry. Oh yes, I've even loaded the dishwasher.

The Christmas tree remains up, shelves remain un-organized, projects un-started, the "disaster room" untouched.

Mentally, I say to myself, "Deborah - get GOING on this!"

And just as quickly the retort comes back, "Why?"

"Because it needs to be done!"

"In who's opinion? What for? Where's the fire?"

And then I flop back down on the couch.

This has been my pattern al my life. Without the addition of (external) deadlines, I fear I am quite capable of doing absolutely nothing at all - for a very scary length of time!

A former boyfriend of mine once gave me a Garfield sticker that said "If I were any lazier, I'd slip into a coma." I thought it was hilarious at the time and stuck it up over my laundry sink...

Then, as the years went by, I began to get the sneaking feeling that it might be true, even just a little bit...

And even just a little bit is frightening. I occasionally watch the show "Hoarders" on tv. In fact, the very first time I watched it, I was busy cleaning up my "disaster room", and the show proved MOST motivational! Every time I'd get tired and sit down, there was someone else sitting in the middle of their shit, complaining when people were trying to clean it up - and back I'd go into the room, determined to go through yet another box.

But you see, that particular area is now more or less accessible, so I have no particular reason to work in it any more. I can find most of what I need to in a relatively short space of time, so all sense of urgency has vanished.

And sure, there's still clutter on some shelves, and there are a couple of big pots to wash... but why should I care? Nobody's coming over any time soon.

There is simply no sense of urgency. Therefore, there is no particular reason to do anything!

Once, somebody explained to me that when you work under the proverbial gun for any extended period, a certain amount of lethargy was normal afterwards.

But after today, and yesterday, and the day before that, I fear that the next deadline is much to far away to be of help to me. It's unnerving just how long I can sit and do absolutely nothing at all.

So, hopefully, getting back to work soon will instill some sense of wanting to get things done in me. A least for a little while. Till I can brainwash myself into the appropriate level of urgency to make me start the next quilt or bake the next batch or clear the next shelf...

Anybody got any firecrackers?