"Bad Habits"

I'm somewhat of a self proclaimed Bad Habit aficionado, having spent the better part of a lifetime honing the skills of sloth, indecision and hedonism. It's for that very reason I don't really notice the shortcomings of others. Unless, that is, they somehow get in the way of my sloth, indecision and hedonism.

Overall, I'm usually quite hard on myself, but when it comes to free time, pampering (read: sloth) is the Word and Philosophy of the Day. Strangely enough, most of my previous jobs have been stressful, so when I find myself smack dab in the middle of some spare time, I will lounge on the chesterfield or surf the net. Sadly, The Boy enjoys the ability to look past mountains of laundry and dog-hair-tumbleweeds, so the house will normally remain in its piss poor state until the weekends. We're having guests for dinner tomorrow night (what was I thinking!?), so the last couple of days we've had to shake ourselves out of our evening stupor and try to manage a bit of straightening after work each night. It feels so out of character at the moment, but maybe if we dip our toes in the pool of housework we might find the water's fine and keep it up. Monkeys may also fly out of my butt, who knows. It could happen.

I'm a Pisces, and Lord knows, I was blessed with many of the tendencies of that sign. Astrology Online notes that we fish are often indecisive in important matters, and man, did they peg me on this issue. The Boy alternately laughs/gets highly irritated when observing me trying to make the smallest choice, from the fries, rice or potato dilemma right up to where/when/how I will investigate my next career move. It's my experience that any decision I've made (there are precious few exceptions) has been to my detriment. The vastness of my wrongness is actually staggering. So, I try to subtly convince others to voice their more learned opinions and base my decisions on that. For the most part, it works.

Hedonism. It's the best -ism around. I'm not talking about Studio 54 hedonism, awash in glitz, glamour, sex, drugs and rock and roll, baby. I mean the stuff that gives the greatest pleasure yet doesn't simultaneously fry your grey matter. This may differ depending on whom you're asking, but in my household it means takeout Vietnamese from The Happy Cow, a new episode of Friends (and I don't mean one of those cop out 'previous clips' shows, either) and a foot rub. I realize there's some crossover from sloth: just think of it as one, big, happy mess of relaxation, okay? If I can pursue pleasure without putting on my shoes and getting in the car, I'm a happy girl. For the time being, I suspect I'll continue along this path, gaining weight and squeezing every last bit of inactivity out of the time I do not spend chained to my desk.

A bad habit's a bad habit's a bad habit. If you perceive it as a necessity to your mental health, then have at it. It's only bad if you label it so.

Did I mention I'm really, really good at rationalization?

Posted at 1:06 p.m.