Owen and I looked at each other and sighed. We both walked downstairs and slowly made our way to the litter box piled high with poop. 

    Owen and I came up with a plan as I would scoop the poop out of the box and Owen would put it in the bag. After the first couple scoops I dove in and scooped up a massive poop which was the size of a human. As I was scooping the waft of the poop was awful. 

    I was about to barf and my nose was even plugged. I could even taste it in my mouth. It was that foul. Now you understand why I hate this task so much. But I kept scooping and tried to ignore the smell and was reaching closer to the end. One of the cats walked in and hopped into the box in the middle of my cleaning session. And bent down and layed a nice warm poop right into the box.

    It smelled like death and I was about to run away but I needed to stay and finish. I scooped poops for what felt like whatever and the poops seemed like they were infinite. They kept just reappearing. As I reached the end with this long task I realised that this isn't some boring chore, it's my job as a son whether I like it or not I have to do it.  

    After I finished I walked upstairs. And  I plopped onto the couch and turned on the tv to watch some of the Red Sox game. They were winning in the 7th inning with no outs so it was looking promising. 

    As I was watching the game I sat there and realized something. Life isn’t going to go the way you want it too and you just have to accept it and move on. 

    You are going to have to do things that you don't want to do and that life. You just have to suck it up and do the task at hand. That life and it’s sometimes not fair to you. 

    A task is as hard as you make it.