The Grind

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One day not too long ago I came home and noticed that the carpets had been vacuumed, the garbage was empty and the laundry was done.

Jake was home, But was leaving for work. Sam was at work, so was Kathy.

“Who cleaned up?” I asked Jake.

“Not me. Sam, I think.”

Weird.

I sent Sam a text asking him if he did it.

“Yeah. Just grinding.”

And that’s the word for it when work shifts come quickly, and things need to be tightened up around the homestead.

It’s a good word because life is a grind.

It seems like it takes a month for Friday to get here.

I have two very distinct kinds of weeks:

Pre-massage and post-massage.

There’s a real routine to how my muscles tighten up, and the week following the massage is a lot more loose than the week leading up to another one.

I’m really grinding it out the last couple of days.

Kathy grinds hard when she works 3 straight.

The boys, thankfully, are still around on most days to serve as our legs late in the bad days.

Sam went back to back to back 12’s a couple of weeks back. When I was his age, I did that each week and I was pouring concrete.

“I don’t much care for it,” Sam announced.

We laughed.

Grinding.

Today is massage day.

You think I’m grinding?

Think about that poor masseuse!

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