Work! Work! Work!

Besides spending endless hours in prayer, it wasn't just my imagination that we were overworked in the convent. Naively,  I thought I left hard labor behind when I left home at age fifteen. Mom expected a fair share of work out of each of us kids, but didn't make us dust and mop the same floors every single day. Whether they needed it or not. Nor did she interrupt every chore by ringing a bell and making us go pray either. I was basically lazy as a teenager, and would have preferred sitting around reading and listening to music, but was no slouch. I pitched in and did my best. However, the rigorous work ethic of the  nuns was another story. So I describe in chapter nine.