The yard looks great after yesterday’s rain, but I have a sinking feeling in my stomach, not so much from last night’s chocolate cake over-indulgence that woke me up repeatedly from around midnight to around 2 am, but from the Memorial Day sale circulars.
It’s a holiday that reminds me of Marjorie and worse, the onslaught of tourists and visiting family members traveling to the Cape to see good old Mom and maybe even good old Dad.
I suggested to Ron that he write a book about his past, as a cautionary tale to young men who are overly influenced by their friends and societal expectations. He indulged me as usual by agreeing.
I’m dogged by the feeling of “not good enough”.