Thursday, July 31, 2014
The defiant cry of outrage, “I’m not going to take this lying down!” you all have heard before.
I lop the statement in with, “Over my dead body!” and I wonder what happens when somebody takes me up on that one?
“That can be arranged...”
Given the finality of the “dead body” metaphor I passed on musing over it much and moved on to the not taking this lying down.
The cry of outrage screams, “If you’re going to put it to me, by golly, I’m not going to take it lying down.”
So I guess they stand up?
What if we decide to take it lying down?
That was my thought process. What if I spent my days lying down?
What if I did everything lying down?
I’ve contemplated that notion on occasion when my sloth lifestyle bar had been raised to new heights.
My last chair broke for the final time and I had to chuck it so my home office lacked a place for me to take a load off my mind other than the couch.
That’s when it hit me, what if I actually took all this lying down?
Like, never get up.
I’ve tried this once before with the sofa. I adapted my extra throw pillows into a makeshift reading table from where I could prop Stephen King’s latest 1,000-page novel and read without needing Popeye forearms to support the book.
Then arranged them so I could read without ever having to raise my head.
I could read or watch TV utilizing the most subtle of eye shifts. I took physical minimalism to new heights.
My inner sloth was proud, but only if pride didn’t require too much effort.
I never imagined my sloth lifestyle could soar to greater heights than the Stephen King throw pillow book table.
One lesson I learned long ago — never underestimate the power of self.
So, on a recent weekend, I arranged two end tables at each end of the sofa. One held my laptop and books, the other my personal DVD player and a lamp.
I stacked my pillows so I would lie in a half-reclined position either on my side or on my back.
If lying on my back, my knees worked well as an impromptu laptop tray, a laptop’s laptop if you will.
I lay back and typed.
Initial results were awesome. I just reduced my commute to work from a five-foot stumble across my living room to a simple left-cheek to right-cheek shift.
My head never left the pillow.
In fact, after two days of this last weekend, other than sustenance and waste processing, I could get by with combing my hair on one side of my head. The other remained in a state of perpetual bedhead.
I didn’t last very long — about three days. Apparently there is a limit to my state of sloth.
I considered downsizing my living conditions. Who needs a two-bedroom townhouse? Who needs an efficiency even?
A broom closet would work for me.
When I started looking at the closet underneath the stairs and thinking, “Hey, this could work,” I realized it was time to get up.
Homo sapien didn’t waste a million years learning to walk upright for me to undo it in three days.
I owed to my sub-evolutionary forebears to rise up from the sofa, grab the mule’s jawbone and venture forth upright.
Cue the opening theme from 2001, a Space Odyssey.
I’m ready for my close-up now.
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