What good is a quickie? Why is everything rushed? For women, quickies are a raw deal. Life is already a rush and not in a good way.

I need more rushes (in a good way) and less quickies. Take for instance, right now, I'm writing a quick blog before I get ready to go to work. Is what I write even going to be good?

I should have had a quick spin on my elliptical. I don't even have time for a quick swim. What happened to luxuriant days whiled away in a meadow?

Why do all the things that seem so good happen quickly and all the things that suck go so slow? If you are unemployed, doesn't it seem like you are unemployed F-O-R-E-V-E-R...?

Meanwhile, if you are lucky, you can sandwich that quickie between job searches and interviews. Maybe we should stop sandwiching what we like and enjoy between long, insufferable periods of drudge. Why should the joyful moments be reduced to a sad and lonely thin slice of deli ham slapped between stale white bread?

I don't even like white bread. That's it, I feel like I am stuffed in a giant room filled to the ceiling with bags of Wonder Bread. I'm suffocating.

I'm living in Vacationland and I haven't had a vacation. I have been watching people come through the doors of our offices where we offer vacation rentals in the great outdoors of Maine. These vacationers are squeezing a week of life and living "the way life should be" between 51 other weeks of artificial office light, paper piles and clock watching.

The tourists come from every state in the union dreaming of Maine and here I am scrambling to make enough money to enjoy this dream. I've already arrived and I think I have my priorities screwed up and need to reorder where I spend my time.

For now, my time is up, this quickie is over and now, I have just enough time for a quick shower before I drive an hour through bumper and boat tourist traffic to work. I hope today, I get my priorities straight and start squeezing thin slices of work between long luxuriant swims and romps in the meadow where I while away my time.