It's interesting to note how action begets action, and sloth begets sloth. On the days that I work, I get a ton done, both work-related and non-work-related. However, on the days I have off, I do nothing. Nothing. It's sad, and the fact that it's so predictable makes it even sadder. I'm one of those people who, unless presented with a terrific reason to get out of bed (art, friends, bill-paying, imminent starvation), will just stay in bed forever 'n' ever, merrily doing crosswords and reading Archie comics.
Funny thing is, once I'm out of bed, I'm off to the races, living my guts out; ain't nobody gonna break my stride, nobody's gonna slow me down and so forth. I remember being forced to read As I Lay Dying in tenth grade, written by that laugh riot William Faulkner, and my English teacher was baffled by the father in the book. He, like yours truly, was a victim of inertia, never moving unless acted upon by an outside force, never stopping unless something put the brakes on for him. Live hard, laze hard. My English teacher made a huge deal out of this, saying that the father was insane and that Faulkner didn't always make sense. I happen to agree with the latter assessment, but I remember the pang of guilt I felt when I recognized a kindred spirit in this guy, only to feel the two of us being read the riot act by my teacher.
I should walk around town today, or die trying. I need paper towels, anyway.