Lazy is as Lazy Does

There was a day, not so long ago, when I was famous for my homemade cookies. You know the ones I'm talking about. I would make those fantastically delicious cookies that I paid $200 to Neiman Marcus for the recipe. Yes, all you doubters, it is true that I can cook. I actually cook very well. I just choose not to. Lazy!

I have become so lazy that someone at the office was selling pre-made cookie dough. A year ago, I thought this was a great idea. However, now I don't even want to scoop the dough. No, that's way too much trouble. I want to do no more than break apart pre-made, pre-scooped cookie dough.

I put gas in my car the other day at a pay-at-the-pump station and the display asked me before I pumped if I wanted a receipt. I chose "yes" because, without a receipt, five seconds after I leave the gas station I will forget I was there and not charge myself for the gas.

When my tank was full, I replaced the nozzle and waited for my receipt. However, the display which usually is trying to convince me that I really do need a 64 oz. Bladder Buster soft drink, was telling me I needed to go inside to get my receipt.

Are they insane?! What is this, 2002? Who goes inside a gas station unless you need "Mini-Thins" or beer? Walk twenty feet and stand in line to pay for gas? I'm no peasant. I have a debit card, by God, and I use it.

So, I left without my receipt and...crap.