My First Marriage

I recently finished "Private Life" by Jane Smiley. Written in a bit of a distant voice, and thus one doesn't really connect with the characters, except that from the main character, Margaret, I began to see that I was stuck in a marriage from the days of old. Mind you, I wear no ring and I go home to an empty bed, but I am still in one of those marriages that existed before people got the idea of marrying for love. I am married to my work. I provide for it my labor and my duty, it provides me food and a place to live. We chat blandly over supper (or should say he chats to me), I smile, nod, and act interested. He is probably attaining more joy out of all this than I. And yet, everytime I get in my mind to leave, I fall into the same pit. "Really, is it that bad?""Why can't you just make yourself happy in this, like the women before you have?" I still wake up and make the eggs just like he likes them. Will one day I believe enough in myself, smash the eggs on the floor, grab my packed bag, and flee out the back door?