Today, while unloading the dishwashing for the 3,000th(?) time, the following thoughts crossed my mind:
- That business about needing to do something 10,000 times to be good at it is really crap because I could do this in my sleep.
- I wonder — can you prepare a person for drudgery?
I was feeling like Conan the Barbarian pushing the giant stone wheel around in a circle today. When I faced a kitchen full of dirty dishes and a dishwasher full of clean dishes right after moving dry towels out of the drier so I could switch clean towels over to dry so I could start washing the dirty sheets I’d just stripped of the beds, well. . .
Most days I’m okay with the cleaning, wiping, sorting and every other “-ing” that comes with keeping a person’s house from looking like something out of Hoarders. But sometimes I get so cranky about it, and I wonder, is that because my momma just didn’t raise me right?
My brother and I had a pretty cush childhood. We did some chores, but we certainly weren’t up there with my friends who did the dishes every night, cooked meals, and handled their own laundry. Yet somehow — and I’m really not sure about the “how” — I left the house and didn’t starve or live in squalor.
But I wonder sometimes, am I wimpier than people who grew up doing all the stuff I now have to do every day as an adult? I’m not saying I wasn’t a hard worker as a kid. I’m a classic overachiever — to the point where I burned myself out and basically made myself chronically ill. But my hard work always revolved around school, sports, and music lessons.
So my question remains:
If I were more conditioned from an early age to do all the boring stuff of life, would life be any easier now? Would I be a less bitter adult?
Or would I have just wasted some valuable time when I could’ve been doing cool, enriching, creative stuff? Would I have missed out on being a kid?