Monday is laundry day in our house. We don’t have a washer and dryer in our apartment nor is there one in the building. I have to carry everything a block and a half to the laundromat. I have been doing the laundry since the kid was born, and before that we used to use a wash and fold service.
Now, I’m the service, and this is my role in the family.
Yet, when I got up today, I was annoyed that I had to do this errand. Annoyed that I have to spend half my day doing this, when I’d rather be doing everything but laundry.
Maybe it’s the heat of Summer, maybe I’m getting older and it takes more out of me to do it than it used to. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m forty-five and I still have to go to a laundromat.
Maybe I’m becoming an angry middle aged man in America. Maybe I’m not the savior of the world, I’m not a rock star, or a genius, or the best at what I do. Maybe I’m just a guy floundering in the middle of the pack.
Maybe I still don’t know what I’m doing, and now the fear of running out of time is invading my ego, causing me to shirk my responsibilities and run away.
I’m just not feeling it today.
(Say! If you like what you have read, please like, share, and leave a comment. It would help justify my existence.)
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