I Believe... [Weed Your Mom's Garden]
...that spending a morning helping my mom clean up her extensive gardens, pulling weeds and trimming back overgrowth, and then organizing the garage as my dad sits in his chair supervising his need for order in one of his few places left is worth more than most things I do on any other given day. My mom singing nonsense songs in her pleasure at her garden and my dad’s satisfied grin as the garage comes together is gold.
Being an escort for me was like being a scrapbooker on Etsy for most other single moms trying to pick up some extra money. The only difference was that I could make a few thousand bucks for one hour of potential discomfort versus making a few hundred for several hours of suffering through handmade clip art. I’m a pretty open-minded person, but I cannot for one second believe that there is any joy in being hunched over a desk, cutting and pasting other people’s memories together. It seems so lonely and juvenile.