You guys, I am dragging. People blame this on the holidays, right? I think I’m supposed to cite pies, cookies, a closed gym, and general lack of motivation as the things holding me back. Obviously, all of those things are at fault. You know what else is at fault? January. That bastard is always up in my business, sneering around corners with February and bullying poor March into handing over his lunch. Again. What? You think March is a her? Oh no, there’s a special place in hell reserved for March and his tiny deceptions – lies about the weather, taunts about the sunshine, and overall surliness. He’s practically the incarnation of Scrooge himself. Except Scrooge had a one track mind. March is too clever for his own good.
But it’s still January and, now that I think about it, he’s half the man March is. We’re midway through and I didn’t even realize it. Regardless, I still feel heavy and sullen. The result of unabashed self-indulgence. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a hedonist and I don’t regret lying around bathing in blueberry pie for one second. I just wish I felt better today. Yes, yes, there are tons of coping strategies: just take a walk already, go to the gym even when you don’t want to, wake up earlier and go to sleep earlier, make plans, eat leafy greens. God, I’m a walking women’s health magazine.
Since you are my beloveds, I will tell you that I don’t care. I’m wallowing in my unpleasantness (go here to offer my wife sympathy). It’s raining and cold and there is nothing exciting to look forward to. I intend to indulge this for at least another day and possibly more. Don’t come over here to try and talk me out of it. I won’t have it. This is what I am doing:
For those watching Downton Abbey on PBS (or who have already watched it!), this is the reality show equivalent. All I’ll say is, it’s totally understandable that the scullery maids keep quitting. If I had to wash dishes 16 hours a day I’d quit too or, at least, find a better way to handle the washing up. Seriously. A little innovation never hurt anyone.
Did you know I love games? Like, love them. It doesn’t matter the vehicle. If it’s a video game, I love the character driven romps (just not the thumb jamming shooters) like my good friends Ratchet and Clank above. I’m totally into Wil Wheaton’s Tabletop gaming series on YouTube and I got two of the games over the holidays – both Ticket to Ride and Castle Panic. Also, if you’re fans of things like The Guild (YouTube send up of gamers), Eureka, Firefly, Buffy or G4, you’ll find tons of those actors/hosts joining Wil.
Shantaram, by Gregory David Wallace, shifts India from the “absolutely not” category in my mind to one of “this is magical on paper.” I don’t care for crowds, even to see a wonder of the world, and so India is not on my To Visit list (which, come to think of it is populated by things like Kruger National Park and Lily Dale, New York). This book though, it grabs you. It’s written beautifully and has a compelling story. I’m not close to finished yet but I’ll tell you, the depiction of a bear sauntering down a path in a slum for a hug is likely to stick with me forever. Also awesome, Patrick Rothfuss’ Name of the Wind (warning: the third in the series isn’t out yet!).
And lastly, since I’m just laying around like a slug thinking about how awesome my daughter is and how glad I am that she goes to bed early so that she doesn’t see me laying around eating cookies and drinking coffee at 9, there is this super post on taking back some of the things we did as kids. Caveat: I’m not one of those folks who thinks the old ways are the best ways. For example, we once tried making our own butter from scratch and decided it was a) hard work and b) not cost effective without a cow to donate milk. I don’t think we should vilify parents who want to wash unpicked fruit before their child chomps it because we didn’t in the 70s. The air is different. Chemicals are different. The risk is different. That said, disclaimer: I wash nothing, for better or for worse.
So, go read. Devour. Enjoy. Lay around like me. Eat these cookies and drink coffee and stay up too late. It’s January, possibly the only month worse than March.