The Sloth

From her nesting place in the glittering sunshine the sloth watched a snail rocket past. 

    “I suppose I ought to be moving along," she thought to herself. “Sitting here won’t accomplish anything.” Two dust motes flickered in the sun’s glowing rays, twisting and turning in their dust mote dance. The square of light that was the sun shining in through the window shifted to the left and the sloth shifted with it, moving a fraction of an inch. 

    “I really ought to tidy up,” she thought. “There is so much to do today, and it won’t get done on its own.” She inspected the claw on her right front paw. Noticing a bug sleeping there, she nibbled at it. An extra tasty treat for her morning. Perhaps its brother lived in her left paw. Moving her head inch by slow inch, she checked. Nothing there, except some algae. She noticed that the patch now covered most of the back of that paw and crept up her arm. She wondered how the patch on her back was growing. Add that to the list of chores — check algae growth. 

    “Time to get moving,” she thought. “It really is time to get moving.” The gentle caress of the sun lulled her thoughts back into molasses. She took a long breath and let it out again sending the dust motes twirling and swirling. Their lively dance amused her so she did it again. This time she blew out small puffs of air. The dust motes danced their frenzied waltz. She chuckled. Ha, and then a few moments later, ha. 

    She looked to the left, where her arm rested on the arm of the couch. What’s this? One last swallow of coffee?! What a treat, what a surprise, what a miracle! She lifted the cup to her lips and drank it in one swift gulp.

    The life giving elixir spread through her chest and into the deep recesses of her bones. She gave herself a shake, abruptly stood and headed for the shower, stopping to toss in a load of laundry on the way.