I’m getting lazier. This evening, after successfully bathing our daughter, instead of making the effort to cook a decent meal, I fried an egg and some vegetarian sausages, drenched them in mustard and wolfed them down. Perhaps through guilt, or fear of salmonella, I fried the egg far too long and far too hot, providing myself with a crispy, brown streaked disc of protein to chew upon. It’s lucky my wife had thrown out the fake bacon yesterday, or I’d have eaten those squalid strips of concentrated salt and bacon flavouring too: everything submits to the frying pan.

It’s a good frying pan, mind. Non stick, to save on washing up (and thus lazy) and also equipped with a temperature sensitive dot to tell you when the pan is hot enough. Lazier still, I suppose.

Frying food is not the only way I’m growing lazier.

In the evenings, when the baby is asleep, instead of improving myself I hanker after trashy cartoons, downloaded from the internet. I fight this, more or less successfully; tonight, at least, we kept the computer turned off, and I read some more Dortmunder to my wife.

But when she’d retreated to bed, exhausted from another hard day of childcare, I didn’t have the presence of mind to go to sleep myself. I wasted an hour pawing at the internet on the iPad, and then, guilty at this, tried to make up for this mental laziness by reading all of the London Review of Books that arrived this week. A bit like eating cake all afternoon and then trying to compensate by running as fast as you possibly can around Singapore.

Even that headlong charge this evening felt a little bit too much like laziness: the laziness of not planning carefully, of not over extending myself by pushing too hard to begin with, of forgetting that you need to train slow, not fast. Lazy, lazy, lazy.

A lot of this is fear, fear of failure if I try and then don’t do something well. But a lot of it is also an aversion to doing things; it’s easier, less painful, to lie there and hope things will come to you, than to make the effort and struggle through. Yet it’s very risky to sit and wait, in the hope you’ll be the lucky one who can stagnate without consequence.

Then again, I suppose it’s good that I’ve been too lazy to start drinking all the gin I’ve accumulated recently. Four bottles to drink, if only I had the iron self will to do so.

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