And I wonder, why am I the one walking on his wet floor instead of him being the one walking on mine?
I mean, I just happened to have been born in America to smart and loving parents who did their best to pass those qualities on to me. I did well in school, I guess, which helped me want to travel and continue my formal education even while I was traveling.
I just happened to have been born into the right century, the right decade even, when I could get a well paying job in the Middle East despite the overall lack of effort I’ve put into this career. I jumped at it, I guess – that’s all I did.
But still, each morning during the week on the way to this job, the one that requires me to wear nice shoes, those nice shoes click down the hall leaving footprints on the wet floor, recently mopped by the janitor now cleaning the restroom at the end of the hall.
And I wonder, why am I the one walking on his wet floor instead of him being the one walking on mine?
