I suppose that I've always been a product-oriented, task-oriented person, gleaning gratification from acknowledging the tangible outcomes of whatever efforts I have afforded. Some people find joy in the process, the journey, the getting there, rather than the destination. Not me.
I think I've always been like this. Tell me what I need to do so I can do it and then it will be done. (Ironic, in some ways, that I've chosen a profession that is almost ALL about process. But more on that another time.) My greatest satisfactions come from closing the file (literally or figuratively) on any particular project, feeling good about a job well done and basking in the moment of relegating said file to it's alphabetical resting place in my filing cabinet. Done and dusted.
This is perhaps why I hate laundry.
Laundry is never done. Even when it is, it isn't. The next day there are another four sets of smelly socks, 2 pairs of grass stained jeans, t-shirts with ketchup drips...
I'm not sure why I feel so regularly defeated by the laundry. It's sad but it's a battle that I often lose, watching, hopeless with surrender, at the growing mountain that sits there taunting me. Only to realize that upon conquering that particular summit there is a lifetime of mountain ranges beyond it. Give me help.
I know that a big part of my life's work is to grow to love the journey, wherever it leads. Even if it happens to be the eternal trek that takes me from washer to dryer to back again.
Cheers to the road.
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