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indulge in some quiet timelaze

a home + living guide for the post-college, pre-parenthood, quasi-adult generation

04.19.2000

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In Praise of SLOTH | 1 2 3 4
continued from page 1

Work is boring. 

And even worse, work makes you boring. As astounding as it may seem, no one is even vaguely interested in your job. No one wants to hear about the reports you've written or the interminable meetings you've sat through. Just try explaining the Byzantine power politicking of your workplace -- the back biting, the in-fighting, the ankle biting -- to someone who doesn't work there, and watch their eyes roll back in their heads. After awhile you will bore even yourself. You find yourself drifting away in the middle of your own internal monologues of "I'm so tired," "I'm so busy", "I don't have time". You don't read, you don't go out, you don't call your family. Not only does work make you dull as ditchwater, it will also make you a bad person. You will stop having sex, your partner becoming only a vague lump in bed with whom you fight about dishes and laundry. You will become a snarling snappish puling mewling, swiping and griping primo example of all work and no play. Jack Nicholson has nothing on you. Threatening your family with murder is a daily occurrence. Boring eh?

Work is dangerous. 

Do too much of it and it can kill you. Just think of the poor old Prime minister of Japan lying in a hospital bed thinking, no doubt, "I wish I had stayed home and watched more cartoons." According to an article in the Seattle Times, "The Cost of Working too Hard" (Seattle Times, Susan Vaughn, September 3, 1999): "In Japan, overwork's hazards are being seriously appraised, Karoshi victims- employees who die or commit suicide from overwork - are regarded by their countrymen with a mixture of sympathy and awe. Hundreds of incapacitated Japanese workers have filed claims alleging that they have developed cardiovascular diseases - including high blood pressure, anteriosclerosis, cerebreal hemorrhages and myocardial infarctions as a result of their heavy work loads". See, work can hurt you. 

Work is useless. 

On your deathbed, with your old withered hand clutching the blanket, will you gasp out, "I wish I had spent more time at the office"? Other than the fact that it allows you to make money, work is not everything. And if you don't do the work, some other stooge will always step in to take your place, just another sad little cog in the great unknowing and uncaring machine. 

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