There's a theory that we pick our path in life before we're born. Well, I think I must have been lazy and got on the short line. The one where life will continue to be disappointing, heartbreaking and hard.
The long line was probably the one where your biggest problem would be getting a convenient nail appointment.
I have no patience for whiny princesses (and they come in men, too) who cannot handle the least little problem. Oh No! I have to clean out the garage. Well, gee, we have to make firewood to have heat to stay alive. We have to cover the stuff outside with tarps because we can't afford to build the barn.
People get upset when they don't get the play tickets they prefer; it's a good week when we can afford gas to get to work, gas to run the saw to make the wood to heat, and dog food. Ice cream from the supermarket is a treat.
A broken nail is not a tragedy; being on line to pick up the anti nausea drugs for your dying husband is a bit worse.
I once heard a woman say "I told him, if I can't have a new minivan, I don't want anything!" and her assisine friends were in agreement.
I see horrible parents whose kids grow up and adore them. Can't do enough for them. I loved and coddled and adored my babies, and they hate my husband and tolerate me. Life is so hard. And I'm whining again and I'm sorry - but at least you're invited to my pity party.
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