I want to run away. Far, far away. Away from my kids. Away from my husband. Away from my mother.
But especially away from my father.
I want to get in my car and start driving, and I don't want to stop until I need gas. And then I want to drive until I need gas again.
Lather, rinse, repeat . . .
. . . until I'm so far away that I don't know anyone or anything.
And then I want to drive for another hour or two, just for good measure.
I want to live in a miniscule walk-up, or in an itsy-bitsy bungalow . . . in some place where I'm not responsible for property taxes or much maintenance.
I want to not have enough room to collect junk.
I want to worry only about feeding me.
I want a mind-numbing, tedious job that pays just enough for the necessities.
I want to wallow in peace and quiet and solitude.
I'll settle for a 30-minute nap.