Grass Stains

I don't know where I'm going. I have a life right here in
front of me...great husband, great kid, nice house,
three pain-in-the-a** cats
that I love dearly. Happiness? Sometimes.

When will I feel complete? What will it take to make this
feeling a permanent part of my personality? It's touched
me at times, but
usually dances just out of reach.

I don't know...a college degree perhaps? Executive level
job in a high-stress environment where I'm required to suck
up to the boss
and wear pantyhose?

A husband that does dishes without complaint?

What is my problem, anyway? I have hours to fill everyday;
chores that need to be done. Yet I play peekaboo with
my son and pig
out on sour cream and onion chips while the laundry
sneers at me.

D**n grass stains.

June 15, 1999

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