The American Dream

There are some days when I wish that my job could be just staying at home and reading books.

I recognize that this is not a realistic goal. 1. My boss wouldn't be so hip to it. 2. I recognize the value of earning an income. 3. Eventually I'd probably get bored (in theory...I mean, I'd think that I would...but I can't really see it happening).

Then I try to think: if I could do anything with my life--that makes me money--what would it be? Reading books is fine and dandy, but the potential for making money just reading is minimal--I would have to do some sort of review or editing work.

And my brain is just fried right now, so that seems overwhelming.

I know this will set womankind back about 100 years, but there are definitely days where I wish that all I could be expected to do would be to: get the house cleaned, wear a pretty house dress, make sure my husband's slippers were in their place at 5:30, get supper on the table, and maybe raise a few babies...possibly barefoot.

Is that so bad? Yeah, that's bad. Back to my job.