Lazy.

Grab the last cup of coffee. Jealous that the burner on the stove has done its job and gets to take the rest of the day off.

Check my phone for emergency emails. Envious of the charger that just gets to hang out the rest of the afternoon.

I pass the pictures in the hallway. Resentful of the fact that my poor man’s artwork gets to just hang around, day after day.

I see the smoker perched in the backyard. I think of it just sitting there in the sunshine all afternoon, taking in the view and waiting for the next round of pork products and apple wood.

Off to work. To read and write. Where I’ll sit at my desk and worry about being busy until I return to my lazy home, full of my beloved, lazy stuff.

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