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Thursday, September 3, 2015

The Couch of Death

There you are tired and worn like a piece of chewed leather that a dog tore up in a mud pit. You just got home from work and your feet feel like they could fall off at any moment. Alas, you throw your keys and your care for the world on the kitchen counter. You stumble like a toddler to the COUCH of DEATH!!

You plop down and you feel your pourous and vulumptious body sink into the cushions like quicksand. Several quarters and a nickle fall out of your pockets and the join the communities of old gummy bears and Cheetos from past slothful Netflix binge sessions. You close your eyes and let out a big "Ahhhhh" as if a mesuse manifested herself behind back. Your neck swings back towards the cushions and you put your feet up. All your troubles and stresses from the day are wiped from the windshield of your mind and forgotten. You grab the remote and turn on the tube. Your eyes transfix and your mind locks into the frequency that glazes your eyes and sooths your anxiety. You transport your brain from critical thinking and place it into a bath of sugary mucus water. 

You ask yourself. 
"Should I eat? I'm hungry. I need to eat, but I'm so tired." 

As your thoughts in your mind start to slowly fade from your consciousness, your attention is being stolen by the television waves. Your mind sinks incrementally into the couch cushions and your body attention is lost in a haze of distraction. 

5 minutes pass.
10 minutes pass.
20 minutes pass?

The longer you sit or lay on the couch, the harder it is to get up. 

Your grasp of time is lost and you escape from reality. This is you. You most days after a long day at work or out running errands. Instead of slowing down and reflecting, you choose to escape and forget about the troubles. You choose comfort over courage and submerge yourself into a habit of destruction and apathy. 

Before you know it, it is almost time to drag your body to the rectangle you call your bed. Maybe one more t.v. Show? Surely you do not want to fall asleep on the couch like many nights in the past. Surely, you don't want to wake up with potato chip crumbs on your chest and a hazy disposition. 

Your expended glycogen and shot cortisol levels have led you into a pattern of slothful and gluttonous behavior common in 40 hour a week human beings. Your passion is sucked dry. Your motivation is stolen from the job that you hate. 

" I really need to do laundry. Ah, I'll just do it tomorrow. I really should make lunch for tomorrow. Ah, I'll just get take out." I really should finish that repair of the kitchen cabinet. Ah, this weekend I'll do it." 

Rinse, wash and repeat.
We're creatures of convenience. 
We sacrifice our energy for things we are not passionate about and put our passions on the shelf to dry and collect dust. 

The couch of death will suck you in, 
The couch of death will make you think it's your friend,
It greets you with cushions wide open, 
It transports you to carelessness and lethargy, 
Couch of death begs you to sit,
Couch of death begs you to quit, 
Couch of death makes time traveling easy,
Couch of death makes you think it's all easy breezy,
It'll start with your ass and work up to your head, 
Pretty soon you'll realize you're ready for bed, 
It slows down your motivation and steals your direction, 
The couch wants to grab all of your affection,
Night after night you practice sofa ritual, 
Turning your mind into mush, 
There seems to be no rush, 
The laziness seems perpetual, 

So before you hit that couch,
Take a moment and look out, 
Take a breath and state your intention, 
Refresh your self somewhere else,
Maybe take a look at the shelf,
Grab a book or go make some lazagna. 

DG


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