Don't call me Ketchup Boy, boy!
LBB’s most recent post has inspired me to discuss work a little bit, or my lack thereof. I am guessing that the majority of you in
What I mean is hard, back-breaking, pick axe and sledgehammer wielding work. Mud in your face work. I’m too tired for sex but I will do it anyway because it’s sex work.
Since I have been in the work force, rarely have I ever had to do such work, and, quite frankly, I have reveled in that fact. Sometimes, though, and lately more often than not, the fact that I rarely get my hands dirty is pissing me off. Is this a normal feeling? Even though I work 50+ hours, go to college full-time, raise a family, and try to keep the exterior portion of the house looking quasi-good, is it unfair of me to feel this way?
To get to this point in my life I had to successfully avoid a lot of manual labor. I also had to meet the Percent Daily Values requirement of time sitting on my ischial tuberosity, which I have accomplished each year since 1992 (this is based on a 2,000 calorie diet. Your Daily Values may be higher or lower depending on your calorie needs). I did the apartment thing for several years, until 2001, when I finally purchased my first home (this aids in the avoidance of outside chores). I am also relatively lazy.
When I get home, though, the last thing I want to do is mow the lawn, pull weeds, or rake leaves, even in the summer when sunset is close to 9:30pm! I feel like such a lazy arse, but when I am tired from working all day I simply want to go home, make dinner, eat dinner, polish off a couple bottles of liquid refreshment, and watch "My Name is Earl". Is that so wrong?
Now, you all probably are wondering why I am waxing incoherently (which I tend to do) over this topic, and, yes, I do have a point. I wasted a good part of yesterday loafing around, only to get aggravated, bored, and motivated enough to shuffle a copious amount of hard work into the daily mix. Bad idea.
Obviously, my sit-down-on-my-backside-all-day, computer job has caused severe muscle atrophy, because by the time I was finished, I could hardly lift my chainsaw off the ground to cut the wood. To top it all off, I had to stack the wood up after I cut it – by myself, even. Where are all the low-wage, illegal aliens when you need them? Anyway, after that, I raked leaves for what seemed like a month of Sundays, without stopping to eat or sleep or even make water. In reality, though, it was about two hours. I am still sore as hell today and probably will feel worse tomorrow. Bad idea, indeed…or was it?
Knowing that when I come home tonight and do not have much to do, simply because I have done most of the laborious chores already - and not avoided them - will make all the difference in the world. I might even quit my part-time job to free up time to do more things that are required of me at home.
I am sore as hell and damn proud of it, and I intend on feeling that way a lot more often than I used to.
So, get on out there you candy-asses and get to work!