The proof

You may have read my recent post about living during the late 1800s/early 1900s and how appealing that lifestyle is to me despite my laziness. And some of you may have said to yourselves, "She's not lazy. Look at all those things she does with her kids, all the food she makes from scratch, all that knitting she accomplishes, etc." And that may be so. But a big portion of women's time back then was spent keeping house which really is not my forte. I feel so much better when my house is clean, but I don't like cleaning it and don't feel overly motivated most of the time to do much of anything other than keeping the floor clear of toys. It's sort of like when you haven't showered in 2 days and you know you would feel better if you just did it, but you think I'm not going anywhere so what's the point? The mess is just going to creep back, so what is the point?

So, here's the point. The point is I'm just lazy and these pictures are the proof. Last night, January fifteenth, we finally decided to take down the tree. I went out and bought a new container to pack all the ornaments/other Xmas crap in instead of using the same 2 raggedy cardboard boxes which were falling apart. (One of these boxes actually has a label on it reading "Dolls" that I wrote when I was 12-- almost 20 years ago.) So we took down all the ornaments, the kids' tree, packed everything up neatly. So far so good, right? Well, then LazyBoy says, "Let's just leave the bare tree up for now since they won't be picking it up until Saturday." Or something to that effect. I don't need this kind of encouragement. Luckily, one of the wires holding up the tree broke and forced the issue. So, the tree went out on the porch. Yay! Mission accomplished.

Wrong. As you can plainly see, whatever was still under the tree was still strewn around the room this morning. The 2 empty boxes still sat next to the TV stand. And there were still pine needles all over the floor. And if you look closely at the larger of my children, you will notice that his pajamas don't match. No, I am not a compulsive matcher of clothing. But he did go to bed wearing a matching set. I realize this a full hour later and ask why he is wearing different pants. "Oh, the other ones are wet." "Did you pee in them?" "I don't think so." "Were they wet when you woke up?" "No, it was a little before that."
And did I immediately go check his bed and deal with the potential problem? Hell no, I went and took a shower instead. (Fortunately, by some miracle, the bed itself was not wet. Which is good because I've been too lazy to go out and buy a new waterproof mattress pad.) And then I took the kids out of the house for the morning, and still didn't clean up.
When I got home, I put Dorian down for his nap and decided to time myself. I didn't even rush the job and it only took me 7 minutes. 7 minutes. The floor still needs a good vacuuming, but overall the room is picked up with very few pine needles lying around.
I know it's not hard, people. I'm just too lazy to do it...