Here’s how un-motivated I am.
This morning, I didn’t feel like making lunch for myself to bring to work. I stood there in the kitchen with my keys and my purse and my huge, tacky, pink Victoria’s Secret bag, and I stared forlornly at the refrigerator, contemplating a course of action. I knew I didn’t want to make a sandwich, but I also knew that I’d be hungry by 11:30. I let out an irritated groan, dropped all my bags on the floor and did what any efficient, resourceful, responsible adult would do – I tossed the entire loaf of bread, the remaining slices of cheese, a half-empty container of fat-free turkey and the spare bottle of mustard into a crumpled up Wal-Mart bag, added it to my pile of shit to carry to work, and trudged out the door. I came to work, put the entire bag of food into the fridge in the kitchen, and went to Starbucks for lunch.