Being That Lazy Must Be Exhausting

My housemate is the living personification of laziness, from what she eats and her lack of cleaning and personal hygiene, to her work ethic and effort with other people. Laziness is a real bugbear of mine, but luckily, she spends most of her time in her room, so she can be as lazy and disgusting as she likes where she can’t bother anyone.

I’m in a particularly good mood and decide to give the common areas of the house a good clean. I’ve just finished washing up dishes and drying my hands and, as if by magic, my lazy housemate shows up with a load more from her room and drops it in the sink in front of me. 

Thankfully, I’m on the ball this morning.

Me: “Good morning! Don’t worry. The water is still nice and hot for you.”

Housemate: “You’re not going to wash them up?”

Me: “I would, but I’m going to take that old desk to the bins next.”

Housemate: “You would rather lump that around than do a couple of plates?”

Me: “Oh, I don’t mind. It’s good exercise, and smashing it up will be fun.”

Housemate: “Pfff, like anyone actually enjoys exercise.”

I feel like I’ve seen behind the curtain a little here; she genuinely cannot fathom how anyone could enjoy putting effort into something.

Me: “Oh, I think you might be wrong there. We (the other housemates) have been out for a run this morning. It is really nice out; you should join us.”

Housemate: *Sarcastically* “Oh, sure, I would looooove to. Idiot.”

She slumped off back to her room for the day. The plates never got washed. I think someone threw them away as they sat in the side for so long that they grew “things” on them. We made her buy her own plates after that, but I don’t think they have ever been washed, either.