It was one of those days when I found myself out of just about everything. I was squeezing the toothpaste tube best I could to get that last sticky mouthful swiped across my chompers, the shampoo bottle had been flatulent for days, farting loudly as I attempted to get enough for just one more hair wash, and my Q-tip supply was dwindling by at least two a day.
Truth be told, in all of my cursing as I fiercely shook the bottle and squeezed the tube (no, these are not metaphors) this was entirely my own fault. In that I absolutely knew I was running low on basically everything, why was I not prepared?
Answer: I am one lazy motherfucker.
I am the target market for the modern day delivery system – and I mean that big bullseye is situated right atop my shaved head. The infrastructure was practically built around me. Door Dash, InstaCart, Postmates – love it. I will happily pay another to do my shopping and leave goodies on my front doorstep when they’re done. And hey, the way I see it? I’m helping someone out with their entrepreneurial ambitions. Win, win.
If more evidence is necessary of my laziness, let’s just peek upon that bulls-eyed noggin I was talking about. Keeping my hair high and tight using the number one guard on my clippers works within my lackadaisical lifestyle just perfectly, and I won’t lie: It’s tough to go backward. I don’t even own a brush!
All said, my inactive ways don’t apply to everything I do. I work my ass off at the bar, running my lips off for eight or nine hours, racking up steps as I go – typically upwards of 15,000 of ‘em. And the truth is? When I’m home, I’m just too tired to do much of anything at all, instead indulging in heavy drinking and ingesting as much weed as I can – troublesome habits I referred to in my last blog entry that appear to go hand in hand with my laziness.
Today, as I prepare for my jaunt about the states – wherever that may land me, I’m finding myself much more motivated for the doing, rather than just the planning. And in calling myself out on my adverse habits, today, on my day off? I’m stone cold sober and off to the grocery store to buy, among other things, shampoo, toothpaste, and Q-tips.
Oh, and to finish my story at the get? The end of the day saw a paper bag filled with etceteras on my front porch from an unknown Angel, an unsigned card with a lovely sentiment attached. Inside, at the very top, sat a box of Q-tips. Thanks, Universe.