Driving Home

The other day, I was driving home from work & I began to think. Crazy, I know! But there I was, driving and thinking, thinking and driving. Wondering if I would remember to get that dang trash out to the street. Wondering if I would have the energy to clean my bathroom. Wondering, what new color to paint my toenails. My days are long. My kids are bad, and my husband's deployed.But then I started thinking about my Prada purse and how much I love that black satchel of leather. Each sand colored thread sewn lovingly and painstakingly together for my pure pleasure. To spend eternity, hanging on my shoulder as if it's a part my own body. Does it matter, really, that I tote around a $1900.00 purse to the local grocery store in the podunk, hicksville town that I live in? Does it matter, that I always turn it around backwards so the people standing behind me in line at the Wal-Mart can see it? Probably not. But it IS a Prada. And it's beautiful. And it's all mine!So there I am, driving along. Pot hole after pot hole. I'm thinking. Wondering how I, a somewhat successful person, but not really grown up yet, ended up with a Prada purse. Fifteen years ago, I was 18, single with a newborn baby girl on my hip. Living off the system on foodstamps and government cheese. Oh, it was pretty good cheese, by your typical cheese standards. But I wanted something more. Alot more! Better cheese!Fast forward to present time: Married, 2 kids. Both of them bad, but incredibly cute. And I realize, who CARES how I got here?! I am here! And I have traded in those food stamps for Purses! Who cares how many days and nights I had to struggle to survive? I have arrived! And although my life is extremely stressful, I couldn't really ask for more. Well, except for maybe $500 million, a yacht in the Carribean, and mountaintop villa in the Alps, and the deed to the Tiffany's store in NYC. Oh, and Jessica Simpsons body. But for now, I'll settle for her shoes!I pull into the garage, and my drive is complete. As I walk into my house that is completely trashed, I fall into my couch, exhausted from my day. Nothing exciting, nothing special. Nancy Grace talking about whatever on the T.V. I can't even see the coffee table. Head phones, starburst wrappers, couple of remotes, 3 movies from the hill billy video store and a box of Milk Duds. And where are my counters? Did the kids not see the thief who broke in and stole them right off of the cabinets?Tiredness sets in, as I pull my lazy butt out of the couch. I begin to clean up the mess.... then I notice the most important thing of all! My counters are granite! They are! Shiny, brown and black, beautiful granite....And as I get out my Clorox wipes bought at the Dollar General Store for a buck, I clean them off. Slowly, meticulously & obsessive compulsively, clean them off.Peace envelops me. I let my mind fill with the beauty of those black and brown specks, so cold on my hand. The thought, that tommorow, I can get up and put that black purse back on my shoulder, and hold my head up.....This isn't just any old life. It's my life. For a second, I'm in my own little counter top fantasy. Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb" is playing in my head. Almost half asleep, my hand reaches for my purse..... and my PILL BOTTLE.I take a valium, because now I have to figure out how to pay for all this crap!!