Well I hate work too but there's different degrees of hate for different types of work. When I was a kid, on my summer vacations, my parents would send me to m

Well I hate work too but there's different degrees of hate for different types of work. When I was a kid, on my summer vacations, my parents would send me to my grandparents in the rural countryside. I loved it there, there would be all kind of enjoyable activities to do: fishing, swimming, playing football, reading (practically no TV since there was nothing on it but two hours per day of communist propaganda). But inescapable among leisure there was also work. Farm work. Scything is really hard and on top of that I'd be awaken at 5 AM in the morning, force fed and sent to the fields (with my grandpa and my cousin). It's cold in the morning and the grass is wet from the dew but I guess it beats doing this in the scorching heat of the day: https://romanialibera.ro/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/747678-1624406400-o-persoana-aflata-la-cosit-a-gasit-oseminte-pe-camp-1068x711.jpg https://romanialibera.ro/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/747678-1... But the thing I really really hated was weed hoeing: https://nordnews.md/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/prasit-750x430.png https://nordnews.md/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/prasit-750x43... Never fucking ending rows of corn or potatoes in the scorching heat of the day with leaves touching my sweating skin and irritating it as if the heat and sweat and dust weren't enough and on top of that the monotony of it. I would try to think of something useful or entertaining but inevitably I'd fall into a torpor where my mind would just shut off and only my body would mechanically carry on automatically. And worst of all, there was no point either hurrying up nor was it possible to slack off. Slacking off meant getting scolded for not keeping the pace. Hurrying up was even worse, I'd get tired and find out the reward at the end of finishing a never ending row of plants and weed was ... another row. I do not recall it but my parents remind me that at some point I let go this from my mouth and sounded like it came from the depths of my soul: "I'd rather solve 1000 problems in mathematics than hoe just another row of weeds". So I guess hating work is all about references. All work is hate-able but not to the same degree.