Is it fair to rant that things aren’t exceptional?  

I’ve got a good job.  It requires no creativity.  It pays well and is secure.  It does not challenge me.   I have benefits that ain’t half bad.  It is sedentary.   It is a job after all.  What do I really have to bitch about? 

I’ve got a good boyfriend.  He has no job.  I love him and he loves me.  His prospects are slim.  He’s the coolest, best man I have known.  He’s in transition.  He’s a man after all.  What do I really have to bitch about?

I’ve got a good life.  Its pretty boring.  I’m happy and content.   Nothing exciting seems to happen.  I don’t suffer drama from others.  It is average.  It is a life after all.  What do I really have to bitch about? 

Add it all up and I have a secure, happy, quiet existence and what more can we desire in this living?  

Special Note:  

Shortly after writing this my world was turned upside down.  I indeed had nothing to bitch about and now look back with the realization that I had it good! You see, fate, karma, or just plain bad luck landed square in my lap.  I had a horrific fire at my house.  Fortunately, the house did not burn to the ground, but the garage, both cars and the back third of the house did.  The loss was catastrophic. 

We were displaced and lived like a couple of college students for three months.  No that’s an overstatement; college students at least have the internet.  We slept on a blow up mattress, used cardboard boxes for tables, ate from cans over the sink, came to suspect the downstairs neighbor was a “lady of the night,” and observed drug deals randomly throughout the apartment complex.  The first and only thing asked about my new puppy was how much he cost.  Still worse yet, over time we realized the apartment was infested with toxic mold to which I am extremely allergic!

What did I learn?  All things pass.  We are back in the house which is still a construction site, but I’m starting to be able to breathe again.  Although the house is filled with boxes of items returned after being cleaned and/or repaired, every once in awhile we come across some treasure we thought had been lost. 

Somehow, despite losing so much stuff, we don’t seem to fit in the house (can’t wait to have the garage rebuilt).  There’s no longer a fence across the back yard, so the puppy must be taken out and watched little a hawk to do his business (TMI).  We have to park the cars on the street.  The corollary to all this . . . Once we unpack and reorganize things will be better than before.  The puppy has a yard and is no longer in danger of being stolen for the puppy black market.  We have cars to park on the street.  Oh yeah . . . the boyfriend got a job! 

What do I really have to bitch about?

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