The understatement of my life

I dislike doing housework. Pretty much any of it. The more details it requires, the more dislike I have for it. I’m sure I’m not the only one. It’s not that I’m schlampig ( sloppy). I prefer things in order. Methodical madness. It’s not even that I’m lazy. I’m engineered to work and do by nature. My grand genetic make up. It’s that I want to do so many other things in a day, that housework has been put on the bottom of the list eons ago. But I never regret doing it. Every time I stay disciplined enough to stay on top of the revolving door of chores it slows down the onslaught of more chores to come. I suddenly have all this time for what I want to do. Opening up all this free time and space. For me. Cinderella is making it to the ball after all . And if I expand that out to the things that actually matter in my life, it boils down to the same conclusion. I don’t regret having done things. No matter the fall out. I gave it a shot, even if it didn’t work out as expected, it still got me to a different place in space and time and growth. It’s when I don’t do things that matter, that I fall behind my own ball game. Having to tackle the resistance to whatever, that prevents me from opening up to life and all it has to offer me.