ExposedNYC

Will the hot water in my shower last long enough me to lather, rinse, and repeat without scalding my skin, causing me to jump backwards, and then shiver as I lose all heat and the water pressure dwindles to a trickle that would take a month to fill a teacup, inevitably leaving me with a head full of suds?

Will there come a day when my commute to work doesn’t involve cramming myself into a small moving lunchbox, sausaged in between a thermos of sweat and a ziplock wrapped tourist laughing at just having held the doors open to the train to make me even more late to work?

Will the politicians I vote for actually win an election and manage to change society to the point where I don’t feel the need to cry more often at the nightly news than I do watching the final scene in Armageddon?

How about if the job I want and the salary I want didn’t always land on opposite ends of the spectrum, leaving me with twinges of jealousy when I hear my friends talk about recruiters and annual bonuses, while I’m lucky if my employers give me a bottle of wine and a thank you, let alone health insurance.

Or maybe, just maybe, I could meet a guy who calls when he says he will. One who makes plans, maybe wants to do dinner or a movie. One who doesn’t ask me to hook them up with one of my “hot friends”.

Then maybe I wouldn’t spend Friday night ordering cheesecake from the 24-hour deli and watching Ugly Betty reruns on my computer. Maybe if one thing in my life could be easy, I might not feel like rewarding myself for making it through the day by crawling under the covers and hiding from the world. I have no problem celebrating small victories, I just need one.

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