Whining

Today has been one of those days where I've wanted to just curl up in the fetal position on my couch and hope that Tuesday will be better. It hasn't been a terrible day...it's just not been fun. Not even remotely. I hate to whine when there are people dealing with far bigger issues than a close brush with pantyhose, but...

I'm going to whine anyway.

I've been between being incredibly grateful for life as I know it and wanting to slap somebody today. Things that are normally not a problem for me to deal with have put me on edge...like a wrestler on steroids or a reality TV star without drama. I'm not really sure if it is hormones, exhaustion, lack of carbohydrates, Al Sharpton on TV, having a dining room table that seems to breed junk mail or realizing that I have six months worth of pasta on hand but no napkins in the house that was the ultimate tipping point...but trust me...something certainly was.

On my list of general complaints:

Brian's junior year term paper. In working with him...I've already learned everything I've ever wanted to know about Stephen Crane...thank you very much. In two weeks, I will never want to hear the words "Stephen Crane" uttered again. Who am I kidding? I'm already there.

Calling people listed on my tax return who are not overjoyed that I have called. I find that I am most often competing with reruns of "Sons of Anarchy", the 32nd XBox game of the day or random ant massacres...and my competition always wins.

Any cell service. I'm convinced that no matter which one you sign up with, they have a billing department manned by chimpanzees.

Diet plateaus. I am not cheating, but my body has staged a sit-in at a specific weight and it is about as annoying as skinny women who complain about their thighs. I realize that this too shall pass...but I'm ready to move the scale down another ten or fifty pounds. Quickly.

The bleach dispenser in my washing machine. Who knew it leaked? My entire house smells like we clean crime scenes for a living.

The yard sale I've signed up to do but am having second thoughts about. I'm sure that this particular adventure will spawn volumes of hilarity as I have never experienced any success and yet I keep trying. I'd have been better off to have just driven everything to Goodwill and been done with it.

My pool liner. We drained the pool and then thought we could go one more year with the slow leak and refilled it. I didn't say we were bright. Our water bill is going to totally suck.

President Obama. I won't elaborate...but I wish he and Michelle would fly somewhere fabulous for a few weeks without the press. I need a vacation from his newest initiative and the endless speeches that these initiatives spawn...ad nauseum.

My veterinarian. Dixie is good to go until June and can be groomed anytime, but Rebel has to have two flu shots before they'll groom him. Looks like he'll be getting another mohawk with my clippers this summer. He'll totally love that. Don't call PETA. I have to save up for the $400 vet visit that they give me for my annual BOHICA moment when I realize that I could have spent a weekend at the beach and found a free rabies clinic somewhere instead.

Chicken. Although I actually don't really mind chicken too much...it is very possible that at some point in time, I will no longer be able to face it again. I have become like Bubba in Forrest Gump extolling the various ways to prepare chicken...and I can only eat it prepared a few ways. Additionally, I have eaten so much chicken in the past few weeks that I'm beginning to worry about molting.

My scrapbooking table. I have a spot the size of a postage stamp that is not covered with "memories" that need to be put into books. I'm lost in time...last time I checked I was in 2008.

Oh, I could go on and on, but I am just having one of those days where the mundane has put an override on my capacity to appreciate life. And no, it wasn't because the big dogs were meeting in the boardroom and I couldn't get to my "diabetic friendly sugar free 50 calorie" yogurt at 9:45 this morning that started it all. It didn't help though.

Those of you who have real problems, I apologize for burdening you with excessive whining when you might have been seeking something inspirational. I'm kind of in the market for something inspirational myself...like the nirvana I get when it is filet mignon night and I almost cry because I get a reprieve from chicken.

Maybe tomorrow will be one of those days that will be so awesome and wonderful that everything seems like Nicholas Sparks wrote it. But it will likely be more of what today was...if I am lucky. Because no matter how many ways I look at what is not going right...I'm still mighty lucky for everything that is.

Even Stephen Crane.