There is work for money. And money is nice. As family, friends, and millions of strangers have lost their jobs, taken pay cuts, and had their hours cut, I must admit that I‘m grateful for my job.

But there are other kinds of work, like a set of push-ups on the living room floor. Or dancing in the club. Or cooking for a loved one. Or staying late at the machine shop, constructing a compass that points to the center of the universe. Or driving three hours to the countryside studio to spend eight hours a day laying down punk rock on tape for god knows whom. Or, hunched over the typewriter, cranking out a novel that maybe no one will ever read. Or carrying, giving birth to, and raising an entire actual human being.

We put in hours, we put in sweat, we put in our mindshare, we put in our souls, we put in time, we put in space... and what do we get? If not money, then hopefully strength, knowledge, or maybe simply the satisfaction of having done something good. Because: If you’re gonna do it, as Bill Withers sang, “do it good.”

Today I am thankful for work.