And it can be enjoyable in its own way and offered up
In my case, it would be the clothes being offered up as a sacrifice.
OK, it
was my clothes that were sacrificed.
For some reason, my wife hasn’t let me tough the laundry machines for about thirty years now, except to install or repair them . . . .
Did you know that if you leave the permanent press in for too long, not only do they come out wrinkled, but the wrinkles can be permanent wrinkles?


For the people reading here, we toss some clothes into one machine, move it to another then sit on the sofa and fold
the surviving pieces ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶l̶a̶u̶n̶d̶r̶y̶. Not quite servile
I fixed that for you . . .
With four children in Pennsylvania, the thing ran multiple times every day . . . and with water and sewer being a full penny a gallon (1/3 cent for water, 2/3 for sewer), and using 25 gallons a load less, the expensive high end thing paid for itself . . .
. I would even argue that for a corporate desk jockey who spends 40-50 hours a week chained to a cubicle (figuratively speaking), answering phones from irate customers, a building with few windows, fluorescent lights overhead, and entirely ventilated by HVAC, it could — could — be therapeutic, relaxing, and good exercise to get out in the yard, fire up the lawn mower, and spend a few hours manicuring his yard. And of course there is the primeval male urge to crack open an ice-cold beer, stand back, and admire his handiwork.
I can confirm that. I missed my lawn while I was away.
I find mowing the lawn, barefoot with my self-propelled mower, stopping to sip my beer which sits in a huge thermos mug of ice water,
very relaxing Sunday afternoon. I even keep some lighter beer around for this (OK, my idea of “lighter” beer is a European lager . . .).
Now I just need to finish the sprinkler controller so I can reseed. At least I’ve managed to kill most of the Bermuda while the grass is AWOL.
Anyway, some things can be either servile or rest depending upon time and place. For someone like @thelittlelady, it might be rest, while simply
knowing that
I was doing it would be stressful to my wife.
so I got to do some laundry the old fashioned way… by hand. It felt pretty servile to me, but you can’t wear dirty cloths in the tropics!
I washed a couple of pair of socks with a bar of soap in my hotel room in Cleveland a couple of months ago, does that count? :crazy_face:


poor kitty . . .
