"Work is relative."

I’ve learned during this week of unemployment that the idea of “work” is relative. What is considered an obligation or chore to one person could be an opportunity or even fun for another. Case{s} in point:

My mom was asked to create a page about herself to be put in a classroom scrapbook this week. After listening to her complaints about this responsibility one afternoon in our kitchen, I volunteered to put together a page with cutouts and photos for her. I DON’T REMEMBER THE LAST TIME I’VE HAD MORE FUN looking through magazines for letters and pictures to cut out and collage. It consumed my entire day—taking photos, getting them developed, cutting them into shapes, and designing a page. I even caught myself a few times with my “nerd face” on…tongue slightly sticking out the side of my mouth as I focused intensely on the small cuts I was making with my scissors. She loved it, and I got a chance to let my creative juices flow after years of damming it up at college and impending adulthood.

Then, my sister came to me {seeing my natural artistic ability…and virtual 24/7 schedule of unadulterated free time} and asked me to design a visual aid for a speech she had to give. I confess this here, being COMPLETELY assured that my sister’s elderly high school speech teacher will never find herself perusing my blog. Anyway, I again leapt at the chance to sketch and create, and happily sacrificed my dignity {again, with the appearance of the dreaded nerdy face} and standing appointment with the couch during Judge Greg Mathis on FOXtv, for the project.

Finally, yesterday the weather was SO beautiful that I found myself outside pulling weeds from my parents’ rock beds outdoors as an excuse to be outside. {haha, don’t you like that my parents’ kitchen is “ours,” but the weed-and-bug-infested rock beds are strictly “theirs”?} Despite the dirt that is still wedged under my fingernails, pulling those weeds was so INCREDIBLY calming. The vines I pulled had many arms and covered a lot of surface area but came out easily with one, long, solitary root system. It made me so happy to hear that faint *pop before I tossed the dead weeds out into the lawn.

All this week made me ask myself, why did these things used to feel like work to me? Because someone said, “Anything work you bring home from school is a chore,” and, “Pulling weeds is no fun” ? Hmph. Am I am so inundated by outside opinions and norms that I don’t even know what I like to do anymore? 

So guess what? I like pulling weeds and doing homework! I like tweezing my eyebrows and exercising to the point of ammonia-breath! I love bland, crunchy flax cereal and cutting my dog's hair myself even if it takes me hours! Call me weird, I'm fine with it.