Labor Day

Today is Labor Day, and my employer has forgiven We_Can_Do_It!me a day of labor.


Valerie noted that the children were still required to labor at their studies. I laboriously slept the day away, waking just long enough to eat tight meals of leftovers and to grocery shop.


At the grocery store, the aisles bustled with shoppers laboring to fill their carts with choosing food and other products. They labored over the fruit displayed, twisting it in their hands to discern any blemishes, to assess ripeness. Other shoppers labored over prices, scanning coupons, running fingers over price tags. Determining the best price on toliet paper is a Herculean labor only the most educated of mathematicians would able to accomplish.


Valerie advised that we had run out of cat food and that we ought to buy more. I procrastinated the purchase because I didn't want to labor carrying such a large and heavy bag into the house.


When we returned home, I addressed the dirty in the sink, offering my labor to wash them. Valerie refused the offer by reminding me that this is supposed to be a day free from labor.


Sitting here, laboring over the words to write, I can't help to think of the expectant mothers who have gone "into labor." Mother Nature has not forgiven them their day of labor, at the end of which, they will be sweaty and tired, ready for rest. It is somewhat ironic that in laboring to bring their child into the world that they have committed themselves to a lifetime of labor as a mother.


Tomorrow, I return to work rested.



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