I enjoy work—at least most of the time. The enjoyment—actually, the joy—stems from performing the task my way. By “my way” I mean creatively. I love thinking of different ways to perform a task. In how many ways can I dust a room? Does polishing a shoe have to start at the toe? Does a towel folded in thirds look better than one folded in half? In which direction shall I mow the lawn today? Can I find another use for zucchini?

I have little time or talent for the tasks most often called “creative” like art, music, writing, decorating, and the like. Thus, work fills my need for creative outlet. I enjoy creating different ways to achieve the same end. I look upon a kitchen I just cleaned or a lawn I just mowed and see my stamp upon it. Work leaves me with a satisfying feeling. In a tiny way I feel the joy of the artist who writes his/her name on the canvas or composition. Although I don’t leave my initials, I’ve left my mark—and that’s joy for me.

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