Let Me Be Lazy

What surprises me most about my life right now is how lazy I want to be. My life has always been:

List, list, list.

Plan, plan, plan.

Goal, goal, goal.

Check, check, check.

Now I want to sleep at least 10 hours a night.

Say goodbye to clients, projects, goals, commitments.

“No,” the choir shouts. “Not you. Are you depressed?”

I am tired.

Someone else take charge.

Write the list.

Make the plans.

Follow-up.

Keep track.

Clean up the messes.

I want to nap on my 1800's four-poster bed and wake up without an alarm clock.

I want to let the day unfold instead of washing, drying, ironing.

This laziness is a surprise. Who will I be without all those doing labels?

Speaking.

Writing.

Consulting.

Billing.

Planning.

Researching.

Analyzing

Advising.

Competing.

Tracking.

Strategizing. (God, I hate that bureaucratic term.)

What surprises me is that the only label I want — if I must have one — is rebelling.

Rebelling for goodness.

For freedom.

For choices.

For thoughtfulness.

For resting and being a sloth.

I despise labels as much as my younger self loved them.

I wanted to be a VP before 30 and president by 40. With a write-up in the Times, thank you very much. Check, check.

I am surprised at how silly and superficial my young woman was, though her story-worthy adventures may not have happened without her ambition, disciplined leaping, and plan, plan, planning.

I am surprised I now like to read about housecleaning.

Brushes.

Micro-cloths.

Extenders for changing ceiling lights.

Mop heads.

Homemade cleaning formulas.

The order of the process: dust, vacuum, wipe, mop. One room at a time.

This is no surprise.

I love to research.

Figure new things out.

Share my finds.

Give friends unusual tips.

About cleaning,

Hiking,

Fashion,

Cooking,

Books,

Movies,

Leadership,

Caregiving,

Money,

Decorating,

Photography,

Design thinking,

Skin care,

Technology,

Food.

I am surprised that I am often too lazy to clean, hike, lead, budget, create or cook anything too complicated. The figuring out and the so-that’s-how-you-do-it aha’s are enough.

Perfect outcomes are an illusion, too fixed in a world that spins unpredictably.

It’s no surprise that instead of cleaning I put on music and dance.

Spinning.

Swaying.

Leaping.

Twirling.

Then resting with a new beat that is slower than the old normal.

No, dear ones, I am not depressed. Just catching my breath after so many years of non-stop doing.

So glad you enjoyed the fruits of those plans, parties and money.

I’m lobbing the ball over to you. Not a hard slam but a gentle lob that will be easy for you to return. But please return it to somebody else. I may be lounging on the couch reading a novel or that new handbook about the ultimate all-purpose cleaning solution: one teaspoon of Tide power, a half-gallon of water and a splash of bleach.

Thank you for not worrying and allowing me to rest and hibernate this winter. I’m surprised how good it is to just be, except when I see a new spider web under the legs of the bureau. If I still kept lists, I’d note this. Oh well.

As for labels, I always like to cut them off.

Pillows.

Mattresses.

Towels.

Linked-In.

Everything is softer without them.