Fiorella and Husband spent forty minutes outside in the midmorning sun working on the yard, and Fio is done in. Yes, sweaty, red-faced, and exhausted.
Husband wielded the mower down the center and sides of the north driveway while Fio gathered brush, trimmed it to fit, and stuck it in the trash can. Then, when husband had finished his task and Fio had the can stuffed full, they headed back toward the house, which seemed to Fio to have moved a hundred miles to the south in the meantime.
But Fio trucked on. After all, she wasn't really trudging in a can of brush to the garage, but pulling a load of pineapples to market to trade for food for her starving children awaiting her in their mountainside hut.
Maybe everyone fantasizes his/her life like this. Or maybe it was the sun. Or maybe it was just Fio.