Do I Shovel or Do I Write?

Some would argue that writing is sometimes very much like shovelling manure. It can get messy and annoying, but when you get the crud out of the system, everybody feels better. Sometimes your verbal excrescences can even benefit the wider community.

Tomorrow my son goes in to have his wisdom teeth removed. He'll be sitting in the oral surgeon's chair instead of shovelling manure at the stables he works for. He's tried exceedingly hard to get someone to take over for him for Thursday and Friday so he can stay home and lie on the couch and moan a bunch.

Do I rescue him in his hour of need, or do I let him get yelled at for not lining up a work force to fill his space? I'm torn. While I do need the exercise and he needs the pittance she pays him, do I want to spend my recovery time (from bronchitis) horking up manure dust and garnering blisters?

Can I leave this smelly problem at the door of the owner of the stables? She doesn't pay minimum wage, let alone recover the amount I spend on two 27 mile round trips a day on a pot-hole-plagued dirt road through construction. She works my boy to the bone. (But then, it's good for him. Makes him strong and capable and teaches him staying power.)

I'd much rather write. But what's a loving mother to do?