I’ve had it with responsibility.  I have certain inalienable rights.  You know the ones I mean: life, leisure, and kid-in-a-candy-store happyness.

Enough with the paychecks that get split a gazillion different ways. Enough with the professional dress code policies.  Enough with the doctor, dentist, and optometrist appointments, not to mention the required insurances (if I have the right to life, why the hell do I have to insure it?).  Enough with traffic commutes and oil changes.  Enough with the polite conversations about the weather, the dogs, and the kids.  Enough for the reading for personal or professional growth (I’m done growing up, it’s time to start growing down).  Enough with the dusting and ironing and window washing (was never much good at it anyway).  No more haircuts.  No more baths (well actually, I kinda like the baths and think I’ll keep those).  No more diets.  No more vegetables.  And no more boys who have cooties (basically, half of them) or who break stuff (the other half of them).

I’ve had it with responsibility.  I’m adding playing all day every day to that list of inalienable rights.  And then I’m running away to join the UCR.