Okay, whining probably doesn’t make you old, but it might make you feel that way. Over the course of the past three days, I have earned a black belt in whining. I won’t go through the list here–because that would lead to whining–but it seems like anything and everything is whine-worthy in my house this week. I can feel it wrapping around my emotions and squeezing, because this perpetual attitude of self-pity is beginning to take hold.
Self-pity is arrogance, folks. Plain and simple. It’s all about me (or you or whoever is whining and pitying at the moment).
I started not to blog today, because the whining felt like it would spill over onto the page, but then the news came on. There are very few places in central and western Tennessee that aren’t waterfront (or water on) property this morning. An oil slick threatens the Gulf, and people who depend on it for their livelihood are facing that slimy threat. I just heard of a family near us who lost the father and daughter in one terrible instant (please pray for the Quall family).
As it turns out, I have nothing to whine about.
Maybe it’s time to count blessings instead of letting the devil turn my petty problems into perceived disasters?