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I dug up an old bone and satisfied a temptation yesterday. It was a temptation to which I rarely allow myself to submit. It’s the kind of temptation that, in order to give in to it, you have to fight all kinds of other forces that try to convince you not to give in. It’s a reverse temptation, so to speak.

The temptation? Letting myself off the hook and doing absolutely nothing. Zilch. Nada. Zip.

Well, almost.

If you are anything like me, i.e. a single mother who works full-time and owns a home (for now anyway), then you understand how hard it is to submit to sloth. It’s a battle akin to quitting smoking (which, by the way, I failed to do) because throughout the day of intended sloth, you hear voices. Or, I should say, you hear your Highly Responsible Voice.

My life can be so non-stop that I don’t even worry about the weekend getting here anymore. I know not onlywill it be here before I can Jeannie-wink, it’ll be over even faster. So I ride the ride, letting the roller coaster of life take me to where I’m supposed to be to do what I’m supposed to do at that moment. Sometimes, I’m climbing up, hands in the air, anticipating the thrill at the top; sometimes I’m holding on for dear life on the quick descension to the pit.

I have gotten into the ugly habit of not bothering to take days off just for myself. Why? I hate seeing them pass and end so quickly. A day off is only a few hours and it’ll be months, probably, before I can do it again. I also end up not spending the day as I had fantasized, listening instead to the Highly Responsible Voice, that convinces me to finish this project or that chore and then later, I’ll be able to relax. Big fat LIAR.

So, yesterday, I fought hard against rants of the Highly Responsible Voice. That is, after I did the dishes left over from the Memorial Day get together, checked my work emails, cooked breakfast for my son, took him to school, and fed the dogs.

I’m embarrased to say that I felt like a ship without a rudder. I was so at a loss about what NOT to do with the hours that stretched empty before me, I went to sleep at 11:45. You have to understand how difficult taking a nap is for me to really appreciate the fact that I did it at all. I’m moving in 3 weeks. I have garage slam packed full of stuff that has to be sorted for donation, thrown away, and packed. I have closets that need to be handled in much the same way. Utilities need to be transferred; change of address notices sent. The need to do laundry never ceases. My yard (not that it will matter in 3 weeks) is overgrown. Dust coats every surface. There are dentist appointments, car care appointments, and doctor’s appointments to be made.  

And then there are the things I enjoy doing, but have somehow become burdens, too. I’ve written several pieces that I want to submit to magazines. I promised to crochet a wrap for a colleague months ago and it is still only 1/3 complete. I bought charms with which to make jewelry. I need to shop for my best friend’s birthday arriving in one very short week.

I could’ve booked a massage or mani-pedi, but the idea of expensive and short-lived pleasure just did not appeal to me. I didn’t want to go anywhere because I wanted to just DO NOTHING. The only way I could successfully pull that off, I thought, was to sleep. So I did.

At 2:27, when my roller shade snapped open in my bedroom for no apparent reason, letting in the blinding light from outside, I knew the Highly Responsible Voice was pissed off.

I mean, how dare I laze about in bed for nearly 3 hours? How could I be so unproductive?! Shouldn’t I be making a lovely dinner, since I was home all day? How could I just ignore all the work that needed to be done? I should be ashamed of myself! I mean what kind of mate and mother just does NOTHING all day?? Couldn’t I at least take a shower and wash my hair? Is getting dressed asking too much??

Middle finger of my right and strongest hand, meet Highly Responsible Voice.

Having settled that discussion, I got out of bed and wandered, naked, into my kitchen where I proceeded to make a ham sandwich on WHITE BREAD, WITH CHEESE (yeah, that’s right, WHITE BREAD). I poured some blueberry/cranberry juice over crushed ice and added a healthy splash of Skyy. Ahh…

Then I walked out my back door straight into my pool, where I floated and philosophized to myself for another hour. Stark naked. It’s amazing the insights you receive when truly allow your mind to be empty enough to receive them. I’m sure the Skyy under the sky helped. Not only had I discovered it was better than okay, I LIKED it, I was going to take it all the way to bedtime: no laundry, no cooking dinner, no cleaning up.

Drifting in a sea of nothingness (ok, a pool), I had a nasty recollection that, in less than an hour, my 13-year-old son would be expecting me at his bus stop. I had promised to pick him up. I pulled myself from the water, took a quick shower (no, I did NOT wash my hair), finally got dressed and picked up my joy boy. I had to rush him to the baseball field for a game he