I have approached what I classify as mundane tasks with various degrees of energy as I’ve journeyed through life.  Though if honest, overall, I would give myself a low grade for attitude, as trivial labors tended to annoy me.

Adjectives like mundane and trivial demand example—washing dishes, washing clothes, brushing teeth, dusting, vacuuming, ironing, cleaning vehicle, shining shoes, general redd up…you get the idea.  As mentioned, in times past I approached the performance of these chores, after a level of procrastination, with distain, wishing they would somehow complete themselves.  Perhaps I’m not the only person to have felt this way.

It seems silly to consider these items as problematic when comparing my life with that of my ancestors.  My most distant predecessors would have competed with wild beast and mother nature’s brutal elements.  I’m certain dusting domicile or dwelling was low on priority list.  Less remote descendants made soap, sewed clothes, slaughtered swine, and otherwise worked finger to bone.  And here I stand facing the arduous effort of plugging cord into wall so machine can pull dirt from floor and place it in canister ready for disposal.  Yes, silly is an appropriate word.

Still, my hard-working families from days gone by would no doubt be aghast at the complexity we more modern folk deal with in way of COVID, commerce, computer, car, credit card, and career.  Seeing such, they might elect to happily return to making soap from lye in back yard’s grassy patch.  Maybe we’ve simply traded one set of stresses for another.

At this point I’ve adopted a new, more positive outlook having seen friend and family member once vibrant and vigorous succumb to malady and age and can no longer do the simple things I once grumbled about.  I wonder what they would trade to again stand tall and sweep dirt into pan or crouch low to scrub floor on bended knee or lather face or limb and remove stubble with blade’s keen edge or tote bags full of provision from driveway to cupboard.  I believe they would gladly tackle these and many more if time machine would allow return to bygone days.

So, when tempted to complain, I’m learning to enjoy all that is before me whether small or large, exciting or routine, for one day I may envy those who can, of their own volition, clean dinner’s plate with sponge and towel.