Like most children I started to question the world around me at a young age. I gradually realised that there would soon come a time when my parents would not be there to guide me and I would have to fend for myself. Unlike most children however, the sole emotion this thought would usually engender in me was not elation. I was around four or five when, watching my parents carry out simple tasks such as sending parcels off at the post office, signing cheques at the bank or buying tickets at the train station began to fill me with a strong sense of dread. How did they know what to say? Where did they learn to write signatures and who taught them? Would someone teach me what to ask for when I needed to buy a ticket?
I didn’t vocalise these worries but instead would retreat into a cocoon of doubt and fear, mulling them over in my head each night. I would tell myself that one day, somehow, I would acquire the skills necessary to carry out these daunting tasks. One day I would be an adult and adults knew how to do these things, even if I didn’t. This thought would usually go some way towards calming me but deep down, I never truly believed it.
Today, I look back at that chubby angst ridden five year old and wonder at her foresight. Because you see, she was right to worry. This morning, whilst pulling up my tights (I always seem to have profound moments of self – realization whilst in various states of undress) I was struck by a chilling truth. I may pay rent. I may wear heels to work. But, despite these accomplishments I am no adult. And here’s why..
Reason One: I suffer from a debilitating disease. It is called “laziness” and at present there is no known cure.
I am uncommonly lazy. If there is potential for a situation to require me to make any kind of effort, I will avoid it at all costs. I hide behind lines like, “I don’t like faffing about,” or “I haven’t got the energy.”
What I really mean is, “I just don’t want to have to do… well…anything.”
I have left my house with every intention of going to the gym, sat on the bus for 35 minutes, then crossed the street and ridden the bus all the way back home. I have been alone in the house, seen what I’m pretty positive was either a ghost or a burglar staring at me through the glass…. then simply gone back to watching television because I couldn’t muster the energy to be scared. I have gotten on the train, had the misfortune to sit next to a foul smelling man emitting the most dreadful farts at regular intervals, but chosen to stay seated as the contents of the man’s stomach filled my nostrils because I couldn’t be bothered to get up.
Laziness is as much a part of me as the color of my skin or the hair on my head.
I’ll give you a further insight into my particular brand of laziness. As many will know I suffer with bad skin. There are several reputable sources that point to the regular use of a phone as a contributor to this problem. Constantly pressing the same surface against your cheek can transfer bacteria to your skin and this can lead to pimples. There is an easy solution to this: a hands free kit. They are relatively inexpensive and easy to get hold of.
However, once I buy the kit, I then have to wait for it to be delivered. Not so bad except I work full time, so it’ll probably be delivered when I’m at work. If so, I’ll then have to go to the sorting office to pick it up. Before that, I’ll have to locate the sorting office. Just typing that was too much effort for me. Anyone who knows me, knows how dearly I long for clear skin. But, if it’s a choice between clear skin and walking?
Lifetime of acne it is then.
Coming Up: Reason Two: I still can’t get over the fact that I’m allowed to order my own food at restaurants.