Verified by 
“I’m not being lazy,” my husband Jim calls out to me as I pass the bed where he is lying, propped on a four-pillow throne, watching television. “This is Elliot’s show. I want to be able to tell him I watched it so… I’m not being lazy.”
Lazy.
That word.
I sling it at myself all the time. When I sleep too late, stay in bed too long, when I lack focus, don’t get enough done, or don’t measure up to my peers. And the word hurts. Especially when I land a good hit.
“You’re not being lazy,” I say to Jim. “You’re watching TV on the weekend when there’s nothing pressing.”
“Thank you,” he says, letting the mattress once again take his weight, grateful for my absolution.
I’ve decided that the word “lazy” is in itself lazy. “Lazy” is a lazy word. It is the general sloppy umbrella used to indicate, if more time or care were taken, the condition of being blocked, scared, emotionally thwarted, lacking motivation or in a state where internal work is not visible to the outside eye. The word lacks precision. Plus, it’s shot through with sanctimony, adding a judgmental shade to an already clumsy classification.
A Modest Proposal: Let's Lose Lazy
I say get rid of it. We don’t need the word anymore. Let’s put “lazy”’s head on the lexical chopping block and let the ax fly.
Now, I should clarify, I wouldn’t want to ban all uses of the word “lazy.” Certainly we should still be able to describe a drowsy, lazy June afternoon or how the Spanish moss swayed lazily in the breeze or a lazy turn of the seasons. But let’s stop indicting ourselves and other flawed, struggling humans with this nasty little word.
Of course, by eliminating usage of the slur, I would not be advocating for a lack of discernment regarding the problems of excessive idleness. I would be not proposing a campaign of self-mollycoddling in which we never push through our own torpor. I just don’t think the shame implicit in the word “lazy” does us any good. It’s a word whose message is at best unhelpful and when seeking to tap into our inner spring of resourcefulness or connect to our innate rigor, I don’t believe we need to begin by insulting ourselves.
"Lazy" Is Contaminated by the Poison of Our Achievement-Driven Society
Another strike against the word which I have brought up repeatedly to my committee of one: the word “lazy,” tweaked by a culture jacked up on the drug of progress, is often perverted to refer to a state of being simply unhurried or languid or deliciously idle or in any way free from the burden of obligation and necessity. In other words, just being in the world without the prop of purpose.
This is not easy to do.
It’s hard to do nothing.
The Dutch recognize this. They see it as an art. And they have a word for it: the art of doing nothing: niksen.
I am not in charge of the Oxford English dictionary nor am I any degrees of separation from the committee which decides its contents, but I am in charge of my own lexicon and I’ve decided I am striking out the word “lazy” and adding the word niksen.
When I return to the bedroom where Jim continues to be comfortably ensconced watching television, I tell him about the revision to my vocabulary.
“I like this,” Jim says in response. “So it’s a good thing that I’m just lying here watching this show… supporting my friend?”
“Yes, but I believe with niksen, you don’t even need the justification of supporting anyone or doing anything productive whatsoever.”
“I like the sound of this.”
“But I think to foster the experience of niksen, you’d want to turn off the TV.”
“Oh,” Jim’s face drops.
“Sorry.”
“But if I decide to keep the TV on, you’re not going to call me lazy?”
“Call you what?”
