Labor Day is almost upon us again in the US. Okay, so I’m not saying I’m paranoid, but while I was going through infertility and treatments, I always took “Labor” Day as a personal affront to me and my kind. Just another conspiracy to screw with those trying to conceive I think. I mean it’s great everyone gets a long weekend off…
I know. To all of those who live somewhere where there is a Labor Day, only those trying to conceive could be offended. Most holidays offend us, or at least hurt our feelings. So why should Labor Day be any different? It’s just the beginning:
Halloween: Grabby, greedy kids looking for candy.
Thanksgiving: Grabby, greedy kids wanting my turkey leg.
Hanukkah: Grabby, greedy kids wanting gifts.
Christmas: The birth of… Oh come on!
I know that only to hormone-infested raw nerves does Labor Day immediately conjure up thoughts of pushing a person through their love channel. (The Love Channel: Found on Time Warner Cable nestled between Lifetime and OWN.) For everyone else it means:
“Damn– Why is this the last day the town pool’s open when it’s still 96 degrees outside?”
“Damn– Why is this the last day the neighborhood pool’s open when I’m paying $1800 a year in homeowner’s fees?”
“RIP Jerry Lewis and when did the MDA telethon become only 45 minutes long? It seemed a lot longer when I was a kid.”
“Oh no, school’s starting. I have that pain in the pit of my stomach. I think I’m going to have to miss the first day.”
“Football! Baseball playoffs! U.S. Open Tennis!”
“Clothing sales! Shoe sales! Tape sales! Ironing Board Cover Sales!”
“Last day to wear white” (unless of course it’s January and the last clean crumpled item laying at the bottom of your closet happens to be white.)
“Barbecue!” Yeah, It’s my last chance to take the cover off the grill so for the rest of the year I can justify buying a $2700 barbecue by posting the pictures of us in our aprons with the caption: ‘We barbecue every summer!’
“Time to curse out my cousin again.” Why oh why must every family have a relative who kills every joyously restful three-day weekend by clogging them up with a party, wedding, christening, or bar-mitzvah, typically conveniently-located to nobody?
“Heading to the beach!” Last chance to get a tan or, in my case, a third degree burn.
And last but not least, for those drivers living in my beloved New York City:
“Yeah! A holiday! I don’t have to move my car to the other side of the street until Wednesday!”
I hope everybody does enjoy Labor Day this year if you celebrate it where you are. You really deserve it. You do. I mean, even if you don’t work in a traditional sort of way, you know, like where you have to turn off daytime TV occasionally and generate some income, you deserve this holiday. Because let’s face it: Infertility all by itself is a full-time job… maybe two.
Thanks a lot for stopping by. I hope this little detour into the ridiculous helps. Please consider subscribing to my newsletter & if you’d like more laughs at infertility’s expense, take a gander at my little eBook: Laughing IS Conceivable: One Woman’s Extremely Funny Peek into the Extremely Unfunny World of Infertility. It’s my own infertility story and has been downloaded by 1000s. (Comments from renowned fertility experts in “Look Inside”) Available on all Amazons, Nook & Kobo.
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