Where's the Beets?

My dear sister accused me, a few days ago, of having an attitude of having to slog through marriage, relationships, and life. It’s a long story (it always is when Sis is involved), but in sum, we were talking about love and soul mates. My comments were, in part, “Second, and this isn't a cliche, love is a learned thing. The things one feels when near someone who is pretty or charming isn't love. Love is something that is learned, practiced, and worked-on over and over again. Love is sometimes hard work.”
Her comment to that was, “You guys make it sound like it's the worst burden you will ever bear in your entire lives and that you're slogging through life, WORKING WORKING WORKING at this and then waking up the next day, WORKING WORKING WORKING at it all over again, and over again the next day. Sort of like picking three rows of green beans before dinner, or standing on a ladder in 103 degree heat picking cherries off a tree, or canning beets in an outbuilding that's 120 degrees inside, or digging a cellar with a spade, or driving a tractor with a 4 bottom plow and no hydraulics, looking at 159 acres to go.”
Now, I ask you in all fairness, what did I say that incited that kind of response? Am I incorrect that love is sometimes hard work? Actually, this is my blog, so I’ll just answer that question myself. No, I am not incorrect.
One other point. It may indeed be hard work, but hard work many times is pleasurable, productive, and profitable.
So, I’m here to say on the record and publicly, love is indeed hard work many times, but it’s been some of the most pleasurable hard work I’ve ever done in my life. Now, if I could just get these beets canned....