Lazy, lazy, lazy.

I have a deep, dark secret I refuse to admit to future employers, first dates, or friends-of-friends: I love nothing more than to spend all Saturday long (and/or Sunday) camped out on the couch with a day's worth of random snacks, my macbook, and as many cheesy weekend marathon movies as I can find on TV. Literally - all day long. I don't get bored with it, and I don't find myself wishing I were doing something else. If I make other weekend plans, I usually do so sparingly so I don't have to give up too much time being anything other than borderline catatonic.

As much as I relish my lazy time, I harbor feelings of mild shame and embarrassment about it. I worry people will think I don't carpe diem, or that I share one too many qualities with the noble slug. I spend a lot of time in my mind justifying my behavior, in that I throw myself 125% into my work during the week, or that I deserve the rest after three years of law school, or that it is best to stay home since the budget is tighter these days than it used to be.

But regardless of what I think, and regardless of what other people think, I doubt I'll ever stop looking forward to the seemingly endless hours lazing around in my comfy clothes, with a big flannel blanket and my cats to keep me company. And for today, it really hits the spot.