Why Bother?

I believe nature abhors a vacuum but loves irony. I think I have that right. I get a kick out of irony, I know that, whether in fiction or real life. But I don’t care so much for it when it kicks me in the solar plexus. Such is the case tonight, or this morning, whichever it is now. Fresh on the heels of the previous post, Robbin’ & Stealin’, wherein I poke fun at S and a friend’s daughter for stealing things, my business was broken into. Again. This makes five times in roughly seven years. I haven’t written much about what I do, but I own a small retail business in downtown Memphis. I’m sitting here, having spent two hours boarding up a window, picking up merchandise and sweeping up glass. And all I can do now is sit and type and wonder Why Bother? Why try to keep a small business going when there are animals out there? And that’s what they are – animals – a class of citizens in this city that wanders around and simply takes what they like with no regard at all for anyone else. They are no better than a pack of wild, roving animals and should be treated as such. Why bother trying to raise a family in a city that is increasingly becoming a cesspool of crime? Why bother being an entrepreneur at all? Why not work for a corporation and let all of this be someone else’s problem? Let them try to find money in the budget for a new 8-foot window.

Perhaps I’m just tired. I’ve got a full day now, once I go back home to get The Quartet dressed, fed and out the door for school, of cleaning, securing and buying glass. Or perhaps I’m just tired of everything.