Let me be lazy

What surprises me most about my life right now amidst the COVID pandemic 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 1800s four-poster bed and wake up without an alarm clock.

I want to let the day unfold instead of washing, drying, and 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,Skincaree,

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,r and a splash of bleach.

Thank you for not worrying and allowing me to rest and hibernate this winter. I’m surprised at 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.