The waiting kills me. The final hours before payday are the most painful, particularly this time of year. There are so many needs that trump the wants that the wants aren’t even thought of these days. These days are all about survival. Indeed, we work too hard to be this poor.
Simplify. Reduce, recycle, reuse. Stop, drop, and roll for all the good it does me.
The waiting to be more than I have become is the most taunting. The remnants of opportunity now unreachable flail in the wind filled with hissing, red-eyed snakes.
The waiting for it to be better, easier, simplier is laughable at best and heartbreaking more often than I can tolerate. Eventually, there will be a breaking of me and I will no longer be waiting.
Til that day comes, I count pennies to fill my gas tank.