Vice Week: On Sloth

I’m typing this post without even looking at my laptop, currently splayed face down on the cool tile of my bathroom floor, arms stretched out in front of me to my laptop hoping that the typos will at least resemble words when I finally look up. My location is decidedly not the best place to be, given the fact that I live with four other people and share just that one bathroom, but considerations like hygiene and basic sanitary guidelines all but go out the window when I feel the way I currently do: hungry, so hungry, that I’m violently nauseous from having waited too long to feed myself and now nothing will soothe me except being in close proximity of the toilet that I keep dry heaving the empty contents of my stomach into and the cool, vinyl tile pressing up against my cheek.

Before you ready your thousand tiny violins to play me a dirge, this is no one’s fault but my own. I’m not sick, I’m a perfectly healthy female who chose to spend last night watching six episodes of “Grey’s Anatomy” season three — arguably the worst season in “Grey’s Anatomy” history, as any casual fan will tell you — and could not be bothered to get out of bed once to reheat a bowl of already-cooked and portioned leftovers. Instead, I nibbled on a leftover single chocolate chip that was forgotten on my nightstand from last night’s “dinner,” spent 25 minutes Google searching “breathing exercises to feel less hungry,” and whined to anyone who would answer my texts about how hungry I was.

This is my biggest vice: the immeasurable amount of laziness I indulge myself in, to the point of mass detriment. What has started as a few episodes of old television here or there before heading out for the night, has turned into “Sorry I can’t make it, I’m *cough* sick,” as I sit in two days ago’s underwear, affixed to the permanently-depressed spot of my mattress that I have hardly budged from in 48 hours while watching Derek and Meredith drive each other insane for no good reason other than a wanton obsession with doleful looks.

What’s most interesting about my laziness though, is the amount of effort I will put in to remain lazy — far more than I would have had to do, to just get the work done. Reheating a dish takes a minute and 30 seconds, while searching for breathing exercises took half an hour and yielded me nothing. Writing a 1,000-word post on sloth would have taken an hour of work, but heaven help me if I was going to start it a minute before a minute after it was already due. It’s not that I’m depressed, though I definitely wonder it when periods of particularly intense laze are combined with particularly intense self-loathing, it’s just that I now live in New York City, where I’m struggling every month to make everything work, as all of us tend to do in New York City, and the best palliative solution is to turn inwards for a little peace. So yes, sloth is my security blanket.

I’ve been obsessed with others’ vices for many moons now, if for no reason other than to justify my own. I’m endlessly fascinated by the myriad quirks that we indulge ourselves in to just get through the day without wanting to throw a rock at someone. Vices may be indulgent and negligent, but in that way, they’re also self-preserving, aren’t they? They keep us going when the intrinsic act of simply putting one foot forward, for any reason, is almost too much. All our vices, the seven sins, whatever we do to get buy may be deadly, but sometimes it’s just about saving our lives too.

Because of that obsession, this whole week is our Vice Week — an exploration of the weird and wonderful in the world that keeps us all putting one foot in front of the other, day in and day out. Over the next seven days, we’ll be diving into our seven deadliest sins and all our indulgent vices alongside: from revenge being a dish best served cold to forcing ourselves to regress emotionally, herbal remedies to decidedly more chemical treatments, we’ll be digging into all of the ways we’re okay with making ourselves a tiny bit worse. Hang out with us in the comments, share your vices and sins, and don’t apologize for a single one along the way.

Vice Week is our seven-day exploration of all the indulgences that surely will ruin us sooner than we can imagine. But hey, what a way to go. You can check out all of our Vice Week coverage here.