We Lucky Few

The laziness

"Come on, Cal, get up. We both agreed that we needed to do some cleaning." I grabbed one of our big, brown sofa cushions and gently, with the utmost care (Not!) smashed it in her face.

"Jaaaammess," she whined. "I'm right in the middle of a very, very, suspenseful scene. Pleaaaaase. Just a few more minutes?" She looked up at me with big eyes and a fake pout.

"You already said that an hour ago, and an hour before that. The weekend is almost over, and we haven't done a single chore we intended to do." I peaked into her lap at her phone. "Besides, you were browsing through 9Gag!" I accused her and snatched the phone away from her.

After a few pointless struggles, she dropped back into the couch with a humph. She let her eyes wander around the living room, who was plunged in chaos by a haphazard mass of clothes, misplaced items, dishes, all topped with a coat of dust.

"I don't know what your problem is, but I think it's clean enough."

"Callie," I groaned, "You are just too lazy to do anything."

"I'm not!" Her eyes flared up and her cheeks heated, but under my "You can't fool me"-look, she rapidly crumbled. "Alright. I'm really not in the mood for cleaning." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"You never are!"

"Yes, because it's stupid and a waste of time. I could do so many things in that time. Fun things."

"Fun things, like wasting your time browsing through 9Gag?" 

She threw me a dark look. "Yes," she agreed with a serious tone that dared me to contradict her. 

"You are unbelievable." I stood and threw my arms in the air in exasperation. I felt the beginnings of anger stir in my chest, and I didn't want to fight. "Then I'll do it by myself."

Without giving her another look, I hastened away to grab a big garbage bag and proceeded to stuff all of her clothes, all of her stuff that lay around, and all of the dishes she never cleaned into it. After all, she was the main source of the chaos.

She just. Never. Tidied. Up.

Never.

My movements became more forceful as my anger rose. It always had to be me. I was a tidy person and I could overdo it, I knew. I tried to be rational about it, but at some point, the chaos just bothered me so much that I thought I couldn't live in it for a second longer. Why did she not understand that? Or was it that she didn't care? She could just be so lazy. It didn't fit her. She usually sparkled with so much energy and enthusiasm.

I was about to shove a pair of jeans into the bag with more force than necessary when I felt a hand on my arm.

"I'm sorry, James. I'll help. Let me clean up."

She took the trash bag out of my hands and looked at me with a question in her eyes. 

Am I forgiven?

I studied her for a moment, then nodded. Hell, even when she made me crazy, I couldn't stay mad at her, not even for five minutes.

You are whipped, James. Just accept your fate and let it happen. You were a goner since you met her.

I shook my head at my own thoughts and leaned in to give Callie a quick peck on her cheek, to let her know that we were fine. It was our sign, after all, the sign we never consciously agreed on, yet the sign that had been rooted in our relationship since our first quarrel. The small kiss on the cheek or the forehead, that showed the other that all was well, that they shouldn't worry, that we weren't angry. 

Callie smiled up at me sweetly, then turned around, not without stucking out her tongue at me.

I sighed. Yep, even her laziness, I loved. Because it didn't fit the puzzle, because it was so unlike her, yet absolutely like her, and because she was so damn cheeky about it.

Completely, and utterly whipped, James.

I shook my head in marvel.