Cynthia closed her eyes and sighed. Not a contented sigh. Oh, how she wished she could find a contented sigh in her somewhere. No. This was the sigh of a million frustrations and disappointments. This was a sigh of disappointment in herself. Why couldn’t she find balance and contentment in her life? Why must she always find it wanting? Other people with fewer advantages than her seemed to be able to do it. She felt guilty for feeling this way, and that only compounded the problem.

Someone, who she supposed meant well, had once told her, “Look outside yourself.” What good would that do?

She kicked her feet up on the coffee table, flopped her head onto the back of the sofa, and opened her eyes to stare at the stain on the ceiling. The one from when the water heater had leaked two years ago. Thankfully, she’d caught it before it got bad enough to bring the ceiling crashing down. Whose bright idea was it to put a water heater in the attic anyway? Seemed dumb to her.

Exhaling heavily, she lifted her feet off the coffee table, placing them firmly on the floor, and she stood. No point in wallowing in self pity here on the couch. She could do that in the kitchen doing dishes.

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