We really do make it entirely too difficult, too often for ourselves. The hell of it is that we *like* that inconvenience, I think. We like the feeling of being burdened, of sacrificing something, even if it’s only in our heads. Goddess forbid we enjoy a day, work or no work, without guilt, without feeling we *should* be miserable, at least in small part, in order to feel worthy.
I blame Hollywood. And Puritans.
And I blame ourselves for mainlining this idea that it all has to be so bloody difficult to be worthy of mention. Mention. Well, there’s too much noise in this world anyway, not enough focus on quiet diligence, quiet joy and a day very well spent.