The Fallacy of Doing Nothing

​I have shared a different slant on this before.  If I am repeating myself please rest assured that if I am going down, it is only that I want to take you with me.  There has got to be a better way of saying that.
It is scary really.  I seem to be getting better and better at doing nothing.  Today is my designated day off and although there are things to do, I have chosen not to do anything.  Some may say what is the difference?  Today looks like any other day of the week.  But a forensic look shows there is a subtle difference.
Although to say I am doing nothing is not strictly true.  Getting into this chair takes practice and patience.  I need to align myself correctly.  I need to land correctly.  Activities not for the faint hearted.
The same goes for going for a sleep.  I could easily end up on the floor when my intended destination is the bed.  Covering myself with the sheets could end up an exercise in frustration by the sheets becoming all tangled.  But no.  I apply myself.
Typing something and leaning back is an artform.  Having trouble getting my coffee cup to my lips could indicate a drinking problem.  But on the whole I manage it.  I prefer not to mention involuntary gags which require a mop up.  Thankfully they are few and far between, but for me anyway they are memorable and embarrassing.
Sometimes I see a cat ambling across the yard.  I burst out of my seat and walk hurriedly towards it.  The cat thinks here comes trouble and runs away, jumping over a fence.  Doing that alone requires a certain skill set.  Walking hurriedly.  Opening the door.  Looking like I mean business.  Seeing to it the cat has gone.
The more I talk about it, the more I realize I am not doing nothing.  I know I make frequent trips to the kitchen from the back porch.  It could be I need to make lunch.  That in itself requires the exercise of several abilities.  When Merril is not here I need to decide what is for lunch. That one alone could leave me stumped.  But no.  I make a decision.  I am wondering why I regularly choose something so hot I have enough water running off my face to alleviate the drought.  I can only think it is because it tastes good.
There are other times I make the trip from the porch to the kitchen to make a coffee or a milo.  Making that stuff requires hand eye co-ordination.  The coffee or milo is in one container and the sugar in another.  The filling of the jug with water and the pressing of the button to make it boil is another story altogether.  Then there is getting the milk from the fridge.  I intrepidly go from the bench to the fridge and back again.  I think I have got that off pat (I hope Pat does not feel the poorer for it).  Having worked on that one so much I probably make it look easy.
I could mention how I often need to go to the cupboard to look for morning or afternoon tea.  But I won’t go there as it is not my intention to make you feel inadequate.
As much as I would like to stay and talk I cannot as I am too busy.  I feel a lean back from a seated position coming on.