No stress about entertainment

I’ve got, I guess, twenty DVDs I haven’t watched lying here and there. Ten more (and three more as of yesterday) are with my sweet, though physics-studying, brother; he’s a quick watcher unlike I. It’s not that I’m wealthy, or in the middle of some spending spree — no, some of those DVDs are getting old, like years old, and I still haven’t watched them.

Likewise with music: every six months or so I scoop up the couple of CDs I’ve bought (in actual plastic) and run them into my computer. Some time later (and in some cases, still not yet) I then actually press play for the first time.

The same, and much, much worse, with books: I could rattle off the top of my head dozens and dozens of books I actually physically have (hundreds and hundreds of them within reach at the moment), but haven’t read yet. All were, and most still are, books I very much want to read.

Now, what is the reason for this glut of entertainment? Am I maybe about to bitch about Too Much Variety right now, or eScream a long eScreed about insufficient free time?

Well, no.

I’ve listed the above just to get to this point: I don’t worry about things being as they are, since the greatest of fools is the one that stresses himself because of his entertainments.

I suppose I could devise neurotic self-entertaining programs, and make this holiday into a terrifying vortex of experiences, achievements and milestones, and read and watch and listen and even finally trawl through all the “back issues” of Whatever and Pharyngula from time before I stumbled across them; but why bother? I will do what I happen to feel like doing. It’s my entertainment, and to repeat, if you have to stress over your own entertainment, U DOIN IT RONG, as they say here in the internets. There is nothing more perverse I can think of right now, excluding child beauty pageants of course, than getting all wound up by the exercise of unwinding.

Or maybe this is just a rationale for utter laziness.

Well, works for me anyway.

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