The first time I was aware of my laziness, I was reading about the tree sloth (itself a revealing window into my endless distractibility). I discovered that what the tree sloth does best is sleep. I love to sleep; in fact, it may be what I do best. I can sleep almost anywhere, any time. I once experimented to see how comfortable I could make myself in the dentist’s chair. The next thing I knew, I had fallen asleep to the grinding sound of a drill in my mouth! Anyway,back to the sloth. The only time he stirs is when the craving for food becomes stronger than the craving for sleep. Me too! If left alone, sloths are not unpleasant. That’s me. They have a good sense of smell but they don’t hear well. Verified by my wife. The sloth’s main defense against predators is its almost constant inactivity. In the wild they are often mistaken for a big pile of dead leaves. Inadvertently I had discovered the answer to the party question, “If you were an animal, what kind of animal would you be?”
I’ve also discovered some reasons why the human sloth fails to register on the dysfunction meter. For one, lazy people rarely instigate conflict. You won’t see us rant, verbally attack, or make outrageous demands. Conflict is just something else to avoid. I’d rather let you win an argument than put in the effort to win it myself.
In addition, lazy people are almost by definition dull to their problems. We are habitual escape artists. Find a lazy person and you’ll find someone with a highly developed skill (and appetite) for leisure and diversion. The ability to divert stress into distraction can be handy in some ways. For example, I don’t worry a whole lot and I don’t tend to carry grudges—too much work. But I can be very dull to the needs of others. The trap of laziness lulls me into assuming that everything around me is okay, or at least it will be if I avoid it long enough. You can’t be lazy without being inherently selfish.Something to think about.
Tomorrow, I'll continue with Everyman's Battle.
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