Oh, how I labored o’er today

Being Labor Day here in the good ole United States today, I thought it might be worthwhile to run down a list of my activities today, from waking up to the writing of this post. Mostly because, well, I had the off, was largely about as productive as a rotting turnip, and didn’t really feel like writing about much of anything else.

So, here you go, everything you ever wanted to know about what I did with my day, but didn’t want to ask.  Oh, and me being me, I figured I should rate each of my doings on a scale from 1 to 10, with 1 being as much work as petting kittens, and 10 the equivalent of breaking rocks beneath a sweltering, cloudless Texas sky.

• I labored over waking up. Seriously, it shouldn’t take a 40 year-old man that long to decide to do something including, but not limited to, standing up. (Labor value:  -1, the work equivalent of brushing one’s teeth. Because really?)
• I labored on twitter for half an hour or so, bemoaning the fact (via tweets) that in California there’s a place where you can get a doughnut filled with peanut butter and topped with chocolate, but as I was at that moment in Northern Kentucky, a doughnut road trip was mostly of out of the question. (Labor value: –10. Old dogs laying in the sun work harder.)
• I labored over some tasty Mellow Mushroom pizza for lunch. (Labor value: 2. Not only did I have to chew my own food, I had to fight off my kids for that last slice!)
• I labored through a long drive to the middle of nowhere (aka, California, Kentucky—yes, it’s a real place) in search of an Oreo-flavored doughnut (are you picking up on the theme from the first half of today?). (Labor value: 2. Hey, you have to stay awake and everything when you’re driving. Especially out in the country!)
• I labored at shucking a dozen ears of near perfect sweet corn purchased from a man with no name out of the back of his pickup in the parking lot of the Moose Lodge*. (Labor Value: 3, seriously, that damned corn silk between the kernel rows is the devil’s making)
• I labored through my fantasy football draft (Puddin’s Boys are gonna rule, y’all! Be afraid!). (Labor Value: 1. This is non-zero because weathering the indignant sighs from one’s significant other that you’re wasting a perfectly good afternoon that could be otherwise productive on a pretend football game is, actually, some work.)
• I labored over cooking said the aforementioned sweet corn (i.e, I put it in the over and forgot about it). (Labor Value: 1. Hey, someone had to actually bend over and put them on the over rack!)
• I labored at cleaning out the fish tank because I’m tell ya, I dunno what all my three inch-long fish and my snail get up to when I we’re not looking but it’s some nasty grodiness up in that tank (PS, WTF, snail? You’re supposed to clean up the grody. Do you job or I’ll find a bottom-feeder who will!). (Labor Value 2. Look, if this was no labor at all, I wouldn’t put off tank cleaning until it looks like an aqueous version of Animal House.)
• I labored over a collection of hamburgers on my grill, which took at least ten WHOLE minutes to cook to flame-kissed perfection. (Labor Value: 1. “Ow! I think I hurt my wrist flipping that last one!”)
• I labored my way through dinner.  Mmmmm….burgers and corn. (Labor value: 2. See also: chewing, Mellow Mushroom)
• I labored through mowing my lawn, which of the list above is the only thing even remotely similar to an activity that might, possibly be construed as actual work. (Labor value: 3. Still, I think we can all agree that even insinuating this is distantly related to actual labor is demeaning to good, wholesome labor everywhere.)

Today’s overall Labor value: –10. I’m pretty sure even the grasshopper was alarmed at my lack of accomplishment today. Why did I even get up?

Yes, I think we can all agree that considering the list of “activities” above , I did very little actual labor today.  As in, a shocking, disturbing, embarrassingly insignificant volume of work. Then again, today is, as mentioned, Labor Day, and the general motif of the holiday is the not accomplishing of any real work. I am thus thrilled and delighted to declare my holiday an unqualified success.

Three cheers for Labor Day, a holiday after my own shiftless, sloth-like heart.

How was your Labor Day? I hope you made the best of it, too!

Pud’n

*Okay, so the guy probably has a name, but nobody I know knows what it is. And yes, I swear on the last slice of pizza, the Moose Lodge is a real place.