things aren't always as they seem

It’s Not My Job

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Post #6: It’s not my job.

So there I was at 6:00 a.m., in the dark, in the cold, in the rain. (I want to say “the pouring rain” but I don’t want to exaggerate. Okay, I do want to exaggerate, but I won’t — too much.) I am taking in the recycling before I go to work. I do this every Wednesday morning. We live in a rural area and our trash pick up does not include recycling, so we take it in to the recycling center. Make that “I” take it in.

After I finish sorting the newspapers, office papers, cardboard, cans, glass bottles (green is separate from the clear) and plastic containers, it finally hit me.

This is not what I want to be doing at 6:00 a.m. in the dark in the cold in the rain before I go to work. My husband is retired. He can do this from now on, at his convenience.

And I made it so.


Author: Tresha Barger

Writer (blogs, humor, short stories, poetry) and artist (miniature art quilts, watercolor paintings, soft sculpture dolls)

One thought on “It’s Not My Job

  1. I too forget that Darrell has more time to complete the ‘chores’ now that he only works 20 hours a week. Every once in a while, after running around like a banshee, I remember. He ususally doesn’t mind.

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