Complaining

Life sucks.  I have entirely too little to complain about.

People don’t let me down nearly as much as they could.  They constantly surprise me by going above and beyond.

The tech at my Dr.s appointment today was entirely too cute.  And had an infectious enthusiasm about her new job (week 3 on it) and her new puppy.

Plus it looks like I’m not dying.  At least no faster than a normal person.  (Not that I thought I was before either.)

My family is pretty darn spiffy.  My friends are decent too.

I could complain about work.  It is hard.  There is too much going on.  I don’t accomplish as much as I’d prefer.  But I’d complain louder if I was bored or it wasn’t challenging.  Plus my staff still makes me look good.

I’m reading a good book.  It is comic book day.  I get to hang out with my brother tonight.  Really.  Not bad.

I’d like more time.  More time to relax.  More time to get things done.  I’d like things to get done without me having to do them.  That might be the best I’ve got.

Which is too bad because I really like to complain.  Sigh.

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