Rustic Cyberpunk

Today, I did nothing. And it was glorious.

It's a Sunday evening after a long while of not having time for thoughts besides work. Not a good sign to dream of work while asleep. I remedied that conundrum by setting aside the last few days to devote to my favorite pastime. Doing nothing.

I've used the robot vacuum to push my socks closer to my bed so I didn't have to get up to put them on. I've avoided the terror of having to clean the bathroom floor as often by having another pair of slippers to wear inside. I've brought cookies to provide enough of a distraction in the office to delay being noticed before I dashed out. These are achievements.

Healthily doing nothing and enjoying the experience is hopefully something I can continue doing for the foreseeable future. July and August are typically my busiest months and when the opportunity for laziness arises, there are only a few blocked headings on my moral compass.

The constant need to fill this or that particular gap in activity with "some thing" is an aggressive vine. Looks good on your outward life of bricks, but will cause the whole wall to crumble eventually once the roots loosen the mortar of your sanity.

To be always busy by choice is insanity.

It prevents the enjoyment of nothing, that fantastic state of existing without burdens of existence. To me, the essence of laziness is the appreciation and joy of silence, both in thought and action. It's the default and supreme state, punctuated by necessity.

Laziness is a privilege and I appreciate every moment of it I can get. Sipping on hardship, like a fine and expensive drink, helps to appreciate the notes without getting drunk on the lessons.