Living- in- Between

Today, I find myself in a local book store rifling through a couple of plastic grocery bags of unopened mail that has been on the floor of the back seat and trunk of my car for at least a month.   I have always hated opening mail.  Generally,  it was a pink or red-letter anyway.  I thought with those colors I will just wait until Christmas.   I have been at this same bookstore for about 4.5 hours.   So before you judge me let me help you.  I am living in between.  I moved out of my apartment a month or so ago.  The rent is too much for an in between woman like me.  I need  my ends for me.  I have taken care of an ex, “present” children and a few of their children along the way. I deserve an “aparent break”.

One day I had read enough MORE magazine articles  to make me see freedom in my rearview mirror. So I loaded up my car with clothes, shoes and my trusted inexpensive blender.   I sold everything I had stored in an overpriced storage facility.  I filled my car with premium gas and headed North, Midwest; you get the picture? I was not too concerned where I was going.  I just knew that I had to leave here. By the way, even though I stopped by today to retrieve my mail I found myself not interested in reading about my past so I threw it all in the trash except the coupons.   Actually,  I only returned here only to see if there is a check in the mail with my name on it.  After all I have paid and paid with no reciprocity so surely one day before management locks me out of the building and changes the locks on the mailbox I may be delighted to open an envelope.  Oh, did I tell you that I quit my job?  I will keep you posted.



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