One simple request from my wife, one global-changing epiphany from me. Discover how laziness is the only way to solve our energy woes and stave off global warming.
“Uh-oh, another light bulb out,” my wife tsked from the kitchen as she stared at the transom above the sink.
I emitted an involuntary groan, an instinctive reaction to labor, particularly that of the manual variety. And for good reason. I had affixed myself to the couch, it was Sunday, the Pack was beatings the Patriots, and this crisis in the kitchen meant that I would actually have to move.
I studied the lighting in our kitchen. Six, count ‘em, six 50W Sylvania floods illuminate the culinary proceedings. I know tanning booths that are dimmer than our kitchen.
The cavemen didn’t have six floods to light their way. After slaying wooly mammoths with their bare hands, they made fires with their bare hands, cooked with their bare hands, and perhaps due to the poor light, sometime ate their bare hands.
But they survived. Some would say they thrived, partying and procreating until one day there were a bunch of civilized, non-cavemen people inhabiting the planet, many of them wondering how to get out of changing a light bulb during the Packer game.
Then an epiphany done slapped me upside the head. “Darling, we’re not replacing the light bulb,” I informed her.
“What? What are you talking about.”
“We’re not going to replace that light bulb because it’s time to stop global warming and save energy. That Sylvania 50W flood is ruining the world for our children.”
“You really think one light bulb will make a difference?”
“Not just one light bulb, my dear. Every light bulb,” I replied. Then I let her have it.
Laziness was the answer to global warming and over-consumption of energy. Why do we need to over-illuminate the kitchen? Why do we need to have a house the size of Kansas? Why do we need a car for every member of the family?
Because that’s progress, right? Because it’s good for the economy. That’s the rationale, but it’s the slipperiest of slopes we’re on, folks. The only way to stop the slide was to stay off the slope in the first place.
Proclaiming Oneself a Lazy Ass
From that day forward, I refused to do a damn thing. Soon another light bulb went out. Then another, then another. My wife, quite vertically challenged, simply couldn’t reach high enough to make a replacement. The kitchen soon went dark, and the candles came out.
My laziness extended to other realms. I neglected to call the furnace guy for the annual tune-up, and eventually, ye olde heater went kaput. I also neglected upkeep on the family motor pool, and things went awry with all our vehicles as well.
In short order, my family was huddled in our freezing kitchen. We had burned clothes in the fireplace for warmth, but now that those were gone. All that was left to keep us warm was the tiny pelt of our wiener dog, an unfortunate casualty of our hardened state.
I looked outside, to see if my laziness was reversing global warming trends. Had the oceans stopped overheating? Was New York no longer flooding? Was Al Gore placated?
I don’t know. I do know that my wife left two days later, moving in with her parents and their illuminated home. My kids and their insatiable need to recharge their phones flew the coop as well. I sit here, on the couch, wrapped in my wiener pelt, staring at a blank TV screen.
In the dust on the powerless TV screen, I’ve etched out drawings of what the Packers would look like if they played, and in the flickering candle-light, I cheer like a caveman as I imagine their battle.
Join me, as we go snoringly into that good night, and recline, recline against the dying of the light.