Unhappy In The Haze Of A Humdrum Hour

[It's not been all bad. Not all my escapes from what I really need to be doing have been harmful per se. The drive with Allen down the coast and up Highway 84 and Skyline Drive? Best day of our friendship. Running errands for Violet? Active, at least, and slightly remunerative. Lunch with the family on the patio of a Sonoma trattoria to which I'd driven in a borrowed Mercedes? What it sounds like, even though I felt like a fraud because I couldn't afford the fill the Benz's tank.]

[But they, and the ones taggable as moderately harmful per se, have been just that: escapes from what I should be doing. Working a job is fine; it's looking for one that I seem to have trouble with. I've done it before, I've even helped others do it successfully. Que es el deal?]

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