The repetitive of chores was never a real problem until I hit 55. Now, everything thing I do is a chore. Never ending. No thanks ever given.
As I get older, I’m having a harder time accepting repetition as a big part of my life. I don’t mean cosmically or philosophically. I mean plain, old, boring repetitive everyday tasks like laundry, dishes, bed-making. Cleaning the bathroom. I always feel as if ‘I just did that’ … yet it’s time to do it again!
How many dirty dishes and how much dirty laundry can two people generate? Apparently, quite a lot.
I never liked routine chores, but I long ago surrendered to their inevitability. Now they seem like a personal affront. What do you mean I have to unload the dishwasher AGAIN??!! I JUST did that!!
I used to find sorting and folding clothes soothing and zen. Not anymore. Instead of sighing and resigning myself to another round of laundry, I rebel, procrastinate. Seriously procrastinate. I recently had to do three loads in the washer and dryer merely to see the TOP…
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