Lethargy
Lethargy is a poor friend and associate. Lethargy will share its umbrella with you, protecting you from the torrent of life, though you are never fully protected. You still manage to get wet. Lethargy lurches. It peers around corners, spying upon you, as you sit upon a couch, screening movies and television shows on Netflix or Hulu. It sends you messages through stacks of unopened mail. It accumulates in unwashed dishes, unwashed clothes. Lethargy keeps you company behind closed doors, reminding you that its cousin Exhaustion is never to far away. Lethargy enjoys a good meal. It always finds a place at the Thanksgiving table, hovering around the turkey carvings and selection of pies. Lethargy often stays long past its welcome. Even when you give it hints that you have things to do, an agenda, meetings to attend, places to be, people to see, it manages to remain obtusely ignorant and remains behind to distract you from living. Lethargy loves lazy Sundays, the sort of Sundays wh