Trash Cans and Curfews

Today I felt loved. I felt loved today because I went to the spider infested side-yard and dragged trash cans to the curb, rubbed my hands together to get the idea of spiders off of me, and then sat twitching for the next hour feeling imaginary ants crawl up my legs. You're probably thinking (besides that my reaction was positively pathetic) that this is the weirdest expression of love that you've heard of in a long time. "A long time", however, is the very reason why I felt loved today. For it has been a very, very long time since I have performed such a task. How then, you ask, did trash get out of the house and yard? I will tell you. I attribute our clean house and yard to my brother and father. I felt loved today because the boys in my life have always done the simple yet disgusting task of taking care of the refuse in my life. I had forgotten the cost of the dignity which I was privileged to and the care with which these dignities were made available. Now I live in my own house, with responsibilities that are less than savory. I realize that I have just made myself sound like a spoiled little princess, so I will not hesitate to mention that I consider my house and the adjacent responsibilities a considerable blessing which I welcome with a willing heart. With this particular article, however, I am merely recognizing how wonderful it is to be cared for.
Ok, so I never really had a curfew, it just sounded nice in the title, but the point is, my dad cared for me, my mom, and sister in the little things, that the regulations and expectations that he did have of us as teenagers in my family were, from my perspective, acts of protection and love and proactive growth into adulthood rather than mindless regulations to keep my freedom and expressions captive and away from "where I would rather go".
People call me old fashioned, (people call me a lot of things) but I cannot deny the overwhelming amount of safety, love, and satisfaction that I receive from being taken care of. I have an independent personality type, such that it is often easier for me to do things myself in the first place, but even so... I loved that I could always expect to not have to take out the trash. Not that I didn't have household responsibility, but that I didn't have to do the dirty jobs and it was taken care of by the men, was always so "nice" in my head.