My father in law just turned seventy, still works full-time by choice and does side jobs as well, and seems to always be actively looking for more opportunities to position his finances to grow and provide for his family better and better. I look at him and his work-ethic and get very scared.

You see, I’m a very lazy person by nature. Oh, I know, you’ll say that everyone’s inherently lazy and that it’s an issue of personal character if you can overcome your natural desires to watch TV, read books, and eat Whoppers and Jelly Bellies all day.

But you’re not getting my point: I really am very lazy. I don’t like working. I look forward longingly to the time when I won’t have to lift a finger– which is why I need to be very rich some day. You might think I like to clean toilets, but I just prefer to not sit on grodiness… and kids constantly leave grodiness behind. You might look at my yards with their flower garden and strawberry patch and two vegetable gardens and think, “Hey, this guy really must enjoy this work.”

You’d be wrong. I really enjoy having my landscape look awesome and my grass glow with an emerald lushness, but the getting it to that point hurts. Calf and thigh muscles, back, shoulders and neck end up in pain far too often for me to look forward to doing it all over again. I never look forward to working. Sure, bringing order to things is a personal joy, but pain isn’t fun.

I do all of this so that I can relax some time.. like when the work is all done. I envision a day when there is no more work to do and I can just sit on my aging blue recliner with my feet up, guide the Roku to some SG 1 or the IT CROWD or some other awesome show, and sip endless amounts of limonada. And when Netflix gets boring, if that’s possible, I will read some more books. Brandon Sanderson writes enough to keep a guy reading for months at a time, so between him and Jim Butcher and Terry Pratchett and finally getting to some Jane Austen– my reading prospects are great.

I think the lazy day might be next Saturday, actually. I mean, I’ve got to go for a long bike ride with Ronnie in the morning, and then there’s the weekly mowing. But after that, and after changing the van’s brakes, there will only be a little more to do, you know. There’s that bird netting fence I need to put around the gardens so the chickens don’t bogart the tomatoes and lettuce, as well as the fence around the raspberries for the same reason. But then I ought to be able to just chill out for hours.

I mean, of course, that I’ll relax a little after I get the kids’ bikes running again and help Sunshine learn to ride without training wheels. And since I’ll be right there, it’ll be a good time to yank some of the persistent weeds encroaching on the daisies, phlox, and strawberries.

But after tha-

Well, I get to cook dinner at that point, so I won’t sit down or anything, but cooking’s fun. It’s hardly work at all, really. And after the kids are in bed, that’s probably when I’ll relax and make a call to the palm frond rental agency.

Or maybe instead of fronds, I’ll enjoy some take-out with my best friend, whom I get to kiss every day because she’s my wife. And we’ll maybe watch some JERICHO on Netflix and then bask in some B&J Cherry Garcia. And the next day I’ll admire the fact that my creation outside is obedient, and it is good. And my creations inside are sometimes obedient, and beautifully good and delightful.

Then, when I’m limping because of my bad foot which is bad entirely because I’m foolish, and my back was tight during church and Primary, and we stroll into our driveway and the flowers are blooming, the chickens are clucking their pride at laying yet another egg, and the tomato plants are growing strong, maybe I won’t care about that lazy day any more.

This is better than a lazy day.