I don’t know about you, but in my household the designated lawn person hates his job. It’s not that he hates everything—he likes the lawn mower, so anything green and above four inches is likely to be shortened. And he likes his pump sprayer, especially when it’s filled with weed killer. Seriously, I’ve taken to planting my vegetables in containers and I gave up on green bushes years ago.
If you ask Lawnman why he chooses the tools he does, he’ll tell you it’s because they do the best job. They do the best job at what he likes to do, which is finishing a boring and repetitive task as quickly as he can.
How many times do we confuse the real goal? And how does our work ultimately suffer?
I’m not beating up on Lawnman here, just making an observation that it’s human nature to want to get through the tasks we hate. The consequence of that may not be what we intended. Whether it’s lawns, gardens, or writing.