When I was a kid one of my regular household responsibilities was to keep the garage clean. This included the lovely task of sweeping the floor to keep it clean of dust or anything else you wouldn’t want tracked inside the house.
In general, it was a drag, and the task was also used as punishment for
over achieving bad behavior a time or two. And those instances are what I’d like to focus on.
When my mom gave the marching orders to go to the garage, it wasn’t necessarily because she wanted the garage cleaned, but more so because she wanted me to spend time doing something I disliked in hopes that it would prompt me to rethink my behavior.
But then, one day, I had the most genius thought.