At the Safeway, a woman unloaded a cart piled high enough to have snowcaps, except it wasn't filled with frozen convenience food like mine. Either she was having a huge party or preparing for the Apocalypse. "You don't want to be behind me," she smiled, apologetically.

"Nah," I said, "I picked you deliberately. I haven't been to the doctor lately and I wanted to read People magazine."

"We are all too busy to just sit and read these days, aren't we?" She remarked, sympathetically.

I felt compelled to correct her misconception. "No, I just fritter away my time."

Not only have I done no decorating, shopping, wrapping, baking or mailing, I have yet to work up the energy RSVPing to my neighbor's holiday open house. The invitation is buried in two week's worth of mail and their phone number isn't on my speed dial. I used to entertain; today I let people in if they ring the doorbell.

When my kids were little, I did more than the Marines by 6 am. At least I remember it that way. Now that the youngest is almost thirteen, I can't even use the excuse that I'm recovering. Still, I'm going with the explanation this is just a phase, even if it is a lie.

I've always suspected I was fundamentally lazy, but didn't take time to notice. One of my dad's favorite lines is "You do what you have to do," which I've tried since early childhood to make him define. "Do you have to do anything? Are you talking about moral compulsion to do right or basic survival? Does this saying represent justification or guidance? Are you eliminating personal responsibility or free will?" He persists in answering my queries by repeating the adage, amending it with the word "just."

I know I am not only bucking a social trend toward overwhelming busyness, but compounding it by contributing nothing to society. At least I'm not doing any damage, either.

Expressing laziness is traditionally viewed as either a luxury or sign of depression. I don't think I'm depressed, so I have to bear the mantle of self-indulgence as things around me remain undone, perhaps setting the stage for future panicky catching-up. I still have a little time before Christmas decorations become irrelevant, like my pile of expired convenience food coupons.