Just ignored the first 300 words of a new story and started a new one with same basic concept beneath it. The first seemed too flippant, too chummy, too much like a woman's sardonic view of her life. Because this woman's life really is shitty has a serious question, it's beyond sarcasm. I'm not writing for a woman's magazine (uhboy, don't beat me up here on this; we all know that genres are geared to a particular audience of readers).
So this is the new start:
It is almost eight in the morning and I’m hoping the deli is open today because if it isn’t we’re screwed. Why is life such a pattern of this means that, and if you go this way then you’ll miss that, and like a giant looped hypertext map it’ll mess up your head just to know the choices you’ve got.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology