It strikes me that I am a rather lucky person. When I question what I have to be depressed about, the only thing that springs to mind is my awful job. I have a man who loves me very much, I have a lovely little apartment to live in with him, I make enough money to afford luxuries when I want them, my immediate family members are all doing ok, I have friends who care for me, I have my enthralled blogaudience, and I have most of my health!
The downers: I have a very boring (and relatively low-paying) job with very long hours, I do not have a dog or a cat (although the goldfish go some way to making up for that), I am susceptible to sinus problems, and I suffer from a dreadful case of wanderlust.
Whenever I start thinking like this, I start wanting to volunteer with somebody like Oxfam... seeing as how I have so much, it seems right to give at least a little time and effort towards those who don’t. Then my thoughts wander to orphanages in