I think it's easy to see somebody finding it difficult to relax for an hour or two or have a lie in occasionally and forget that for some people, actually getting out of bed and shifting their arses for an hour or two would have them bitching and moaning about it.
You know the ones, (mostly but not all men) the type who feature on here still in bed at 3pm because they don't work, then spend hours watching TV, playing video games or staying in bed whilst somebody else is left to see to animals, kids, cooking, shopping, cleaning, washing up, working, etc.
It wouldn't hurt for those lazy shites to have a bit of work ethic/guilt about them.
I like getting up, get shit done, then being able to do whatever I want (including bugger all) because the important stuff has been covered. I also like not wasting the times when my medical condition is not dominating my life and actually seeing/doing/experiencing something, as I never know when or if that will be taken away from me.
My mother's idea of hard work was to sit on the sofa in front of the TV The house was filthy. No holidays, no trips out. Just imprisoned from 3.30pm Friday until 8.10am Monday. No activities in the evenings unless somebody else was prepared to go out of their way to take me. Nothing. She couldn't be arsed. Oh, except for the odd pottery class or something she fancied doing and a bit of shopping in Sainsbury's once a month. The rest of the time, fuck all; the milkman delivered most food, the catalogue the clothes.
I wouldn't want to be the person who, when a funeral is planned, the next of kin look blankly at the professional and say 'well, she didn't actually do anything. No, nothing to remember. Nothing funny.'
But some people are just fine with that. Largely because there has always been somebody else picking up their slack.