Futility

I admit it. I hate doing things that require so much work, only to have to do it over again. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind hard work; I'd even say I welcome it. However, lifting heavy things or doing strenuous work for little purpose really irritates me.

Let me give you an example. I just came in from edging and mowing my front yard. A month ago, I spent two days pulling the weeds in said front yard in the dead of the Floridian summer. Coming back from my trip a week ago, I was chagrined to find ALL the weeds regrown. My seemingly endless toil was for nothing! So today, I decided to use the weed whacker to rid the weeds that had overtaken my yard. I won't get into how hard and loud it is to operate the ridiculous gadget. And because the spool-head is broken, I foolishly wasted ten minutes trying to pry it off to change the line. After employing my dad's assistance, it took him a good ten minutes to change it (he had previously devised a way to change the broken spool involving wrenches and screwdrivers). After two hours of yanking cords and holding triggers, I completed the mammoth weed-ridding task. Another fifteen minutes was spent cleaning up the mass array of clippings. After such work, I know that these weeds will all return in the near future. So I say all of this to say that futile labor really bugs me.