Complaining is self-indulgent. It’s annoying. And worst of all, it’s boring. But, I’m writing this blog post on a Sunday while The Boy naps. I’ll probably be working tonight editing a manuscript that isn’t mine. When all I really want to be doing right now is snuggling up under a blanket with the book sitting on my coffee table, neglected.
There’s so many reasons why I have no business complaining. Last September I was lucky enough to be able to leave my office job to focus more on taking care of The Boy. Now my job is reading and editing other people’s stories. My schedule and my workload are determined by me. I don’t make as much money as I did in my office job, but money isn’t everything, right?
I have a solid roof over my head. A pretty nice car. A wonderful husband who works full-time, vacuums, does the dishes and laundry, and is a fun and loving father. Last year I had two books published.
Who am I to even utter a single word of complaint? I’m human, that’s who I am. I have bad days. I get tired and whiny. Some days the to-do list exceeds the number of hours in the day and my energy level to get those things done.
So official complaint lodged…I’m moving on. Focusing on the great stuff instead of the stuff that sucks the life out of me. A new year meets a new perspective. That is, until I feel like getting whiny again!
