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Being happy makes me tired.

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Beach writ

“Try to stay positive”.

“Look at the bright side of things”.

“Keep your chin up ole chum”…

Following the advice of these clichés is exhausting.  It really sucks when you have to work hard at being happy.

My kids and I are still on vacation.  The weather has been beautiful and they’re having a blast.  Life could be worse, right?  Especially with so many terrible things going on in the world I feel guilty even admitting I’m miserable. But my marriage is over and things are a mess back home.  No world disaster is going to make me feel better about that.  I will get through it though.  I will persevere.  And writing will help me along.

I’ve written more pages for my novel and I’ve even written a short story.  I added a “My Fiction Stories” category to this blog and if I feel brave enough, maybe I’ll post it.  Right now it’s all just exercise, even the novel.

The kids spoke to Eric on the phone last night.  He didn’t ask to talk to me, not that I really wanted to talk to him.  I do wonder what he’s doing.  Now that he and Cindy ended things, who’s he rolling around in our bed with?  I wish I had some spies on my block.  I used to, my friend Mary but she moved last year.  She was great, not like the rest of these phonies.  She was real.  I could have called her and asked, “Mary, keep an eye on Eric while I’m gone.  Let me know if there are any strange cars in the driveway, take down license plate numbers, collect DNA samples”.

The lady that lives there now keeps to herself.  We wave if we see each other as we retrieve our mail or get into our cars.  But I sure couldn’t ask her to spy.  “Hey, lady who always wears pink sweatpants…tonight, could you sneak over to my house and peep into my bedroom window and tell me who my husband is boning?”.  I could use another Mary.

I’m going to take a walk on the beach now.  I went last night, around the same time and passed a really nice looking man who was walking his dog.  We smiled at each other, a little flirty I thought.  If nothing else I could use some companionship.  Not that I don’t love my parents but if I have to spend another night playing Scrabble with the two slowest players ever, I might have to shove the tile racks into my eyeballs.


About Marnie

Writer, photographer, crafter & crappy chef

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