The comment I get the most about writing is “How do you write AND work full time?” This question is usually followed by a look that says, “You are so ambitiously energetic!”

Oh, if only they knew… Here’s the cold truth: I’M LAZY. Any energy you see is a total flim flam. A fantastical facade. A big chunk of chicanery.

Let me share a few examples.

Last week I shared how I found 3000 or so plastic bags. Previously instead of recycling them, I burrowed them away in a cabinet until it finally exploded in Poltergeist fashion, and I realized that I had been reduced to hoarding like an OCD chipmunk.

Now that I have dedicated myself to recycling those bags, I’m too lazy to drive them to the drop-off center, so they’ve merely been moved from my kitchen to my trunk. (In my defense, there’s no curb-side recycling pick-up in my town. Living in a retirement village, there probably won’t be for a long while. Many retirees do not give two tiddly winks about melting polar ice caps and Dasani bottles that take more than 1000 years to decompose.)

And I have a giant to-do list of things I can’t seem to conquer. Like my Wal-Mart returns. No, I don’t have my receipt for the hundred dollar automatic litter box that makes my cat howl like a jackal. Lost it. Strangely enough I saved the one for my sole purchase of toothpicks. Will you take that instead?

I never called Lowe’s within the 30 day time period to tell them I hate my new dishwasher, and I don’t see how it could accommodate a 16 piece place setting when all I can cram in there are two Cool-Whip bowls and a spatula.

I have recorded episdoes of Gilmore Girls I’ve yet to watch. The show ended a year ago.

My insurance guy has been sending me letters for six months, saying we need to meet and discuss my policy. But I have no time or interest, so until he writes that there will be plates of cookies involved, he’s wasting his stationery.

My new ceiling fan already needs to be fixed. It now only runs on warp speed and sounds like a chopper is about to descend any moment and decapitate me and my mentally retarded cat.

I’ve been meaning to buy a new car for the last two years, but I could write a series in the time it would take me to get tags and a license, so I don’t even bother.

I have enough towels, wash cloths, and underwear that I don’t have to do laundry for 25.5 days. Don’t ask about the .5. You don’t want to know.

I have yet to reschedule the orthodontist appointment I missed. In January.

On the rare occasions I go to Wal-Mart (where the laws of time are suspended and you walk out and somehow 12 hours have elapsed), I buy like 10 of everything. Makes deodorant and bra purchasing a little awkward.

And since I normally don’t have time to go to Wal-Mart, I sometimes buy necessary things in strange, yet convenient places. Like toilet paper at gas stations. And Christmas presents from the guy who sells random things from his trunk at the stop light.

I have no time to read, so for appearance’s sake, I buy the latest books and arrange them on my coffee table next to an issue of the NY Times and hope no one asks me about the foreign policy in Taipei. Or who our governor is.

The threat of a late fee is a huge motivator, but since my local library doesn’t believe in them, it’s just easier to keep the books. But I’ve promised myself not to let one more decade pass without returning the complete collection of Sweet Valley High.

In my effort to multi-task, I began doing squats while blow-drying my hair, but I keep getting distracted. I now have one thigh bigger than the other and last week I burned my ear.

I’ve decided folding laundry is just a pointless and vicious cycle. I will not be a part of the societal brain washing that says it’s a necessary step. If I fell for that I might be sucked into other traps. Like Scientology. Or flossing.

So sometimes I forego minor things.

Like sleep.

Such as now.

It’s 1:30 a.m.

And I’m posting here.

All because I couldn’t sleep.

And then I got hot.

Remembered my ceiling fan.

Recalled I never phoned the electrician last summer.

Turned on my bedside lamp.

And wrote this blog.

; )