Yesterday, and I know it sounds pitiful, I cried a lot. There I am going from sale to sale only to close nothing and feel like a shmendrick. I'm like the modern, female version of Willy Loman. Trudging along with suitcase in hand, always going for that Big Deal that tantalizingly dangles a hair away from my nose. To commemorate these daily trials I've composed a short poem:
Today I woke up full of Hope and Promise
and still
nothing happened
And, as I sit here on a Saturday morning, coffee in hand, I'm filled with optimism, yet again. Somehow I know that next week deals will close and I will have the mighty paycheck. And, I tell you, when that happens, I will go out for dinner - oh, I will! And, I will enjoy it like I've never enjoyed it before.
Next week - something will happen. Well, every week something happens. But, next week money will happen. They say money doesn't bring happiness. They are the ones with money. I'm pretty happy so money will not be the basis for my happiness but as I sip a glass of lovely wine, order my appetizer, and chat with my loving friends, knowing that I don't have to do the dishes following dinner, oh, I will be happy!
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