Bone Idle

I am lazy.  There’s no getting away from it.  I’m pretty sure it’s an inherent rather than a learned characteristic because  I remember my Dad singing “Lazy Bones” to me, in his best Louis Armstrong voice, when I was as young as 6 or 7,  to which I usually responded with “Am not”, “You are” and other stinging retorts, from the comfort of the couch.

My laziness is manifesting itself on this particular occasion as an aversion to cleaning the house.  I’m not working right now so we can’t really justify a cleaner. I am after all at home, not working.  I should really clean.  I should.  But I hate cleaning.  As soon as I was able I justified outsourcing this particular thorn in my side through a faithful interpretation of the economics of comparative advantage (if you can earn more per hour doing one thing – sitting sedentary at a desk for instance – for another – slugging it out scrubbing down the shower say – you definitely should. It’s more efficient.  It’s the way things should be, it’s the optimal outcome, the model says so), and I had banked on always being able to do so.  But now I earn nothing, per hour or otherwise, so the model is not working in my favour.  Read more...