Poor me.

My day is very serene until 3:30. And at 3:30, the fun begins. The girls come home for school and suddenly the house is a home. But today at 3:27 I stopped at the Fred's located near the girl's home to get flour for another staff. I roll into Fred's parking lot in my beautiful, gold, minivan at 3:27; pull up to the curb and hop out, hoping to still be home by 3:30. I was a woman with a plan and a mission. I run to the back where all the food items are kept and begin to search. No flour. I run to the front and ask the manager. No flour, mam. To which I scream out--We have got to get a grocery store on this side of town. Now I will have to drive all the way over to the Kroger 4 miles from here.

Wait--4 miles. And then it hit me. I have gotten so used to the luxuries of living in America that driving 4 miles in my air-conditioned car to a grocery store full of options inconveniences me. There are people in other places that have to walk way more than 4 miles just to get dirty water. I used to think poor them but now I think poor me.

Anna P.