I was telling a friend yesterday that I am feeling much better these days…lighter. It was only a few short months ago when I could barely see straight – I was so fed up, drowning in emotions I haven’t felt since I was a teenager. You know, when you kinda wish your parents would disappear and leave you the house and lots of money? I read this article in More magazine and couldn’t believe someone had actually written this down. “Being a widow is to have control over your life again.” That was it, in a nutshell, I felt as if I had no control over my life. I didn’t make the money, my debit record revealed precisely where I spent money. So if I wanted to buy a pair of extravagant earrings or a L.elo vibrator, I had to surreptiously use my personal credit card and live with the guilt that I didn’t buy food or an educational course for my son. I didn’t want a husband to ask me if I had done this or that or comment for the billionth time that I make a lot of mess when I cook dinner. I was tired of picking up dog shit, empty poo from the potty and listening to outrageous farts. TIRED. So, yes, it occurred to me that life as a widow might just give me the respite (and new wardrobe) I desired. Have a laugh and read this story.