Sloth would have to be the most user friendly of all the sins.
It’s happy, laidback.
It’s a victimless crime, a slow cruisy ride around nowhere in particular, but inevitably laid out in front of the tv with a packet of TimTams and a couple of beers.
The trouble is nothing ever changes and nothing gets done when this apathetic loser is in the house. The dishes lay by the side of the sink, the ironing languishes in ever mounting piles, the kitchen is crawling with crumbs and cat fluff and the soap scum on the shower tiles congeals and grows hair.
Sloth is a slow descent into total inertia. Torpidity characterized by lack of hope or will to remove oneself from the shit in one’s nest.
I’m too wired to be accused of actual sloth, but the ironing section of the nest has now acquired three (growing) piles.
And something smells like shit…
