Work is stressful. Heck, life is stressful BUT I consider myself lucky. After a busy day at my day job, I get to come home to my castle, my sanctuary from the world outside…..and bury my nose in a book, preferably a historical. In a historical romance, there are no computers that eat your work and send it off into the cyberspace after you’ve struggled over it for hours. Phones aren’t ringing, demanding your attention. There are no cars to cut you off on the highway, honking at you as you make your way to the job (although some of those carriage/coach drivers were speed demons) and although I’m sure there were traffic jams in cities like London in the 1800’s, they weren’t like ours.
The pace was slower (for some). The rush of “do it now” seems to be missing - at least in the historicals I read. That’s not to say it wasn’t hard and filled with stresses of another kind.
Think about it. Depending on your station in life, things were certainly different.
Can you imagine what doing the laundry was like? Or what one had to go through just to take a bath? Who among us hasn’t dashed down to the Circle K for a gallon of milk? Can you imagine having to go out to the barn and milking that cow yourself just to have a glass with your cookies? Sewing your own clothes? Not being able to pick up the phone to call a friend or relative? Living in
without air conditioning? Phoenix
Still it’s nice to drop into the past and forget all those modern conveniences for a while, don’t you think?