As we know, sometimes accidents are more educational, more salutary, than anything determined. Such was the case with the e-mail in-box last week.
I received the following message, in its entirety, from one of my dearest friends, a talented painter and ebullient soul:
It isn't all so bad, I know. I am living my dream really. I just want to be paid better.
Turns out she meant it to go to another friend, with whom she'd been having a discussion about how to manage the frustrations of a hopelessly busy family life while worrying about how to keep the finances upright.
I shot back my response, before I knew I needn't have. And I found myself saying something I had no idea I actually thought. But now I know I believe it, with all my heart.
No, it isn't. And in fact I'm beginning to realize that low pay IS the trade-off for living the life of one's dreams.
And I'm also starting to feel lucky that I do not in fact make a lot of money. It has a tendency to ruin lives.
Yes, we have it good, both of us. Beautiful children we love, the occasional laugh and hug, and cocktails.
No woman ever had more.