Chores

There is nothing like thinking you're quite the healthy gal until you go visit the parents for the week and you end up doing chores. And I'm not talking the regular chores of doing the dishes, and making the bed. I'm talking using a hammer and chisel to break down a brick wall, and then using a sledge hammer to break the cement underneath it. Oh, and then haul all that away. Or shoveling dirt. Or pulling out weeds and dead branches from all the trees around the house. Or scraping all the paint off the trim of the house. Or painting the ceiling. Or taking the wallpaper border down. Good grief! My body is spent! I'm happy to be back in Utah where I don't have to do any of that kind of stuff. Do my parents sound like slave drivers?

Actually I loved every minute of those chores. I love the little conversations that happen. The thoughts my mind takes. The sun. The dirt under the fingernails. The grossness of sweat and dirt and whatever else catches on your body. Just feeling exhausted. It's invigorating. I'm glad I get to do things like that. I wish I would've loved it more when I got to do it everyday :0)