It was a painful seven hours.
One might think being without kids in a quiet room for an unlimited time might be a good thing. It’s not so much; at least it wasn’t so much for me.
In a crowded room of a cross-section of people hearing the dire and depressing tales of criminals and supremely unhappy people, one really gets the message: count your fucking blessings.
Count 'em. Right now.
Your life is good.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Don't make me put you in timeout.