Monday night I lay in bed thinking about all the things that
had gone wrong in my day. After about twenty minutes of having a pity party
with myself, I decided I really didn’t have much to complain about.

I was frustrated with the doctor for not understanding what
I was saying. But that means I’m able to
see a doctor whenever I need one.

I was annoyed to sit in the pharmacy waiting room for almost
an hour only to not get the correct medicine. But that means I have access to medicine.

I was irritated that it was raining and the umbrella was in the other car. But that means we’re not in the middle of a
drought.

I felt my vanity was bruised because my favorite jeans don’t
fit as well as they used to. But that
means I have food to eat.

I didn’t feel like cleaning the cooktop again. But that means I have a nice kitchen.

I was sad that I don’t get to see Zachary and Molly as
much since I’ve moved. But moving means that
I get to make friends like Jenn and fall in love with her little munchkins.
I got slightly bothered because we don’t have the same idea
of how to decorate the house. But that
means I have a house to live in, things to decorate it with, and someone to
dance with on Sunday nights.

When I looked at it that way, I really didn’t have much to
complain about at all.