Jealous of my life?

Last night during a conversation with a dear friend she mentioned that she envied my life, I was flabbergasted.  I see my life as ordinary at best, and you just don’t want to hear about it at worst.

What she sees, whilst not perfect, is a drama free existence.  Dependability, caring and lots of little people cuddles.  (Now this is also someone who sees my house in a tip and hears me shout at my children regularly, I am sure I don’t live in perfection.)

This lead me to question what are the things I envy.

They are quite simple, the first is, freedom to go and not worry who’s looking after the babies, and when I need to get back.  I’d quite like to be able to leave the house, knowing that when I return nothing will have moved, made dirty or be waiting for me to fix, and I suppose I’d quite like to be employed helping people, and getting a decent wage.

Today I was thinking it would be nice to go and escape somewhere, Europe of the Far East, live a life of debauchery, and fade away into the ether.

Somehow I don’t think that’s going to happen, though it did give me faith that something is going OK if others think my life is to be envied.

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