Work, Work, Work, Work, Work

“Give me love, give me love, give me peace on earth.”

Dear, Ringo Starr,

Pick a lane.

Anyone who has ever had a dog knows damn well that love does not come with peace. Love is work. 

The dog may be fed, he may have been walked recently, and he may have a bladder as empty as my bank account. Yet he still stares at you like a shell-shocked veteran having a flashback. Something needs urgent attention, but he won’t tell you what. (Pic not completely unelated)


But you love him. So you go through your mental checklist of what the hell else he could possibly need.

I think people–myself included–have lost sight of how much work love requires. The hard conversations, the doing of things that one really doesn’t want to do, and the endless attempts to figure out what’s for dinner.

It’s exhausting. Because you’re not just doing it for one thing or person. You do it for your significant others, your pets, your family, your passions, your job, and (hopefully) yourself.

That’s not peaceful, Ringo. But I guess it’s worth it.

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