With Proper Motivation
I used to think I was lazy. I wasn’t the only one who thought so–I heard it a lot. Too lazy to do my chores, too lazy to do my homework. Too lazy to finish that paint-stripping project and so I lived without a bedroom door for months and then put the ugly thing back on, still with its layers of tainted white, dead-turtle green, and bloody-brick red. It was another two months before I found and replaced the knob mechanism. I’d restart the washing machine to avoid hanging out clothes, and you don’t want to know how I avoided doing dishes. I wasn’t too lazy to read, though. Oh no, I burned my way through the elementary school library, then the junior high library, at a wildfire’s pace. I wasn’t supposed to read the senior high books till I hit senior high, but the librarians got tired of telling me no. The day the public library gave me an adult card–meaning I could check out thirty-five real books on my monthly-if-I-was-lucky visit–was a great day indeed.