I have decided that I am going to pursue a strict regimen of laziness in an attempt to undo the damage done by a guilt-inducing mother. Today most certainly is a beautiful day out, but you know what? I like being in my pajamas and knowing that I still have to shower and get going, but not for a while. Not until I finish tooling around the internet, drinking my coffee and reading the Ethicist column, and making breakfast. Most certainly not until at least 3.
Hey, man, I now work two jobs in a valiant effort to make ends meet (they do, but you still can't tie them together or anything). My slothy time is important. I spend most of my days attending to the needs of others. To run around like a hamster on a wheel in my off time as well seems like more of the same. Why burn out and get no fun out of it myself?
It breaks my heart that I am defending myself against the perceived nagging of a mother who lives hundreds of miles away. Leave me alone, Ma, I'm an adult now!