So this morning, as I was cleaning up the kitchen, I had a vivid flashback of my life before children. I was working in an office five days a week, stuck in front of a computer and answering phones all day. It was horrible. I hated my job. As I loaded the dishwasher it occurred to me what cruel and unusual punishment work can be, especially indoor office work, and how glad I am to have left that job (eight years ago this month in fact).
Then this evening, as I was cleaning the kitchen again, this time with achy arms from helping George split and stack a cord of firewood, I realized that maybe I had the whole office work as cruel and unusual punishment idea wrong.
The nice thing about my current "job" is that I could forgo doing dishes and splitting wood tomorrow without having to call my boss and pretend to be sick. But I won't because I like my job. I love it. The pay sucks, but at least I don't have to answer phones anymore. That's the kid's job.