different

I figured I'd be different and post something from the homework option other than the image banks - some writing from last week. Don't worry, I dutifully have my lists that I'll bring to class. And somewhat ironically, I know that this offering could benefit from more "detail-oriented" image construction. I always find that very difficult - finding the right balance between description and plot. On the one hand, I realize it's key. On the other, I find myself scribbling like Marcel Proust, constantly revising (read elaborating) on images (and never coming to real completion of them) somewhat at the expense of a story/character/plot.
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No one knows, but this is what really happened.

This affair was just the excuse I was waiting for to leave Bill. C’mon, fucking on the putting green at the country club. Like we weren’t gonna get caught.
Don’t get me wrong, Bill’s a nice, sweet guy and a great provider and damn, if he didn’t get down on his knees in forgiveness begging me to stay, but I never truly loved him. Sure, the 2 kids really cemented the marriage but damn, I want out of this crappy little town. Why did I have to follow him back here after he finished school? Boy did the promise of constant and easy goodies suck me right in. Why did I stick around for so long in this sham of a marriage (at least the way I saw it)?
So what if he got the kids. That shyster lawyer brother of his made sure the judge would rule that way. Damn, why didn’t that part of the plan pan out? Still a pretty unreal judgment for 1965 or any other time - a mother should always get custody. So as much as I want to leave this place, I can’t. Those kids still need a mother and don’t worry, it ain’t like I won’t be a presence in their lives, despite what the judge said.
C’mon look at the poor shlubby shmuck I picked to get caught with. Not even worth a second look but a convenient excuse to get out of that house and go cruising. They thought they knew Blossom before as the rich businessman’s flirty showy wife… These gams have a lot of years left for some fun. Hey, I got the convertible in the settlement. Ain’t no better feeling than driving down Ocean Avenue in the summertime, convertible top down taunting the boys in this resort town. Bet they don’t know I’m over 40 cause I sure don’t look it, especially after the number the gals at the beauty parlor did to me. And I bet they won’t be able to tell I’ve pumped out 2 kids and left my rich hubby to work as a salesgirl in a tiny ladies shop in this sleepy burg. I mean, that’s so romantic or adventurous or bold or rebellious or whaddaya call it – like in a Hollywood movie. I’m a regular female James Dean in spiked heels and Capri pants, smoking Pall Malls, driving around in a convertible, without a care in the world, looking for a good time and not playing by the rules.