I am, in the parlance of our times, a multi-tasker. I like being busy. I like having a list of things to do, even too much to do. Got a lot going on? I’m your woman. I’ll grab this side, you grab that, and we’ll have whatever it is that needs doing done in record time.
Generally, my work ethic acts in my favor. For example, I have been known to start dinner, put away the groceries, rinse out my nylons, alphabetize my canned goods, and talk on the phone all at the same time. I get a lot done and this is good, yes? Well, it is until the day you find your nylons in the freezer and wonder, “why aren’t these in my underwear drawer – and where’s that hamburger I bought the other day?” Maybe there’s such a thing as doing too much at once.
As long as I have enough to do, things are fine. It’s when there’s not enough to do, when the pressure is off and I can slow down that I develop a problem.
My response to not enough to do, to more “down time” than I am accustomed to? Unadulterated TV-related laziness.
Let me go on record by saying that I am opposed to laying, for hours, in front of a TV and see it as a character flaw, particularly in myself. I don’t condone it, I never voted for it, and I believe something should be done about it. Dammit! Why isn’t anyone doing anything about how much TV I’m watching?!
When my work is done, when there are really only a couple of things to do, as opposed to too much to do, when I’ve met my goals and can “relax”, that’s when I become the Anti-Pearl, the mouth-breathing, TV-hypnotized, lackluster epitome of everything I like to think I stand against. Because there’s no denying it – I don’t know how to relax. There I am, butt on the couch, remote in my hand, flipping between reality shows, shows about reality shows, shows about the making of shows about reality shows. Is that relaxing? Not necessarily. But do I wanna do something fun? Nah. I don’t wanna. Want to take a walk around the park? Nah. Wanna just sit there, glassy-eyed? Yeah. That sounds good.
So where’s the happy medium? How can I go from very busy to doing absolutely nothing without going brain-dead in the process? I know I’m not alone in this behavior. It does not ease my conscience. I’ve found myself guilty of crimes against my own nature. Without a demanding schedule, without a deadline, the suction from the TV is gravitational. Come to me, my round-bottomed friend. Bask in my cold, blue glow. And bring a snack with you.
The more I write, the clearer it becomes: I must cut the electrical/umbilical cord that ties me to my TV. But we’ve been together for so long – what will become of me?
The Power of Ideas and When They Fail
10 hours ago