My mom doesn't like my new job. She doesn't like the fact that I work for minimum wage and that I work around hazardous chemicals (thiram).
"I hope you aspire to something better," she tells me.
I don't know what I'm doing with my life--where I'm going--what I'm supposed to be doing.
I drive to work every day through the industrial portion of town, thinking there's a great spot back here to put a topless bar or a strip club. I just have to get the money and the town's approval to do it.
This wasn't what I wanted for my life at thirty years of age.
No comments:
Post a Comment