C'est La Vie

So the fates decided that Twelfth Night was not for me. I should have known that merrymaking was a little too much to ask for. There is no merrymaking in moving, that is for sure. My lawyer advised me to find a rich man to marry me or pack my bags. I guess it is about time. I’ve been acting like I was an independent woman who could take care of herself and I guess it’s just not for me. Deep down, I’m a 1950’s housewife who prides herself on keeping a clean home, trying out new recipes, and being the perfect hostess. The only problem is that I’m missing the other half who brings home the bacon, files the taxes, and plays the bartender. Moving forward I guess I’ll either need to find that man or finally figure out a way to do it all.