Sloth

So, the holidays are over and a new year has begun. The carols are sung, the gifts opened, used; perhaps, broken. Food has been eaten and spirits consumed.

Too much, for some.

Friends and family have been visited or have at least tried to keep in touch.

Old times remembered, fireworks viewed, dancing, laughing.

For the consumers, deals were hopefully attained after the Main Event. Hopefully, without standing out in the cold, without waiting in line. Hopefully, without blowing the budget. And, hopefully, on items that were truly needed.

Or maybe there are those who just stayed in and kept quiet.

For practically five straight days, I did nothing. Or very little, at any rate. I stayed in bed or sat on the sofa, sleeping, reading, watching marathons on the television. I ate very little—at times, not healthily. I drank mostly soda water: low sodium. From December 29 to January 2, I consumed a total of three bottles of beer.

Small bottles. I wanted to keep my head. I lost it, once, over the holidays. It wasn't going to happen again.

It's easy to blame the weather for hermiting myself away. It was too cold to be outside; much better to be inside, safe, under a warm blanket.

For five days, I was a bump on a log. A lazy SOB. A sloth.

Having written all of my blog posts before December 23, I did no writing until January 5: two weeks without any writing. It seems that over time, without sitting with my fingers at a keyboard, my mind rusts.

But it is a new year and time to get off my butt, to stop being that bump, that SOB, that sloth.

Time to oil my brain. Time to start a new year. Time to jot down ideas that will turn into (hopefully) better words. Time to dust off the camera, which hasn't been touched since Christmas Eve.

Goodbye, sloth.