Last night as Squeaky was screaming in my ear and my nipples were rubbed raw and I was so, so tired, I started tallying up all the woe is me sob stories and things I have to complain about - the self-pitying that comes from fatigue and a broken antique rocking chair (*sob*).
Our house is still a construction zone.
The walls are all marked up from moving furniture.
I'm tired.
My nipples hurt
My rocking chair just broke.
My baby won't stop crying
Why won't my baby stop crying??
Man looks so sloppy and lazy on the couch with his laptop playing solitaire and oh my heavens I hate it when he plays solitaire
You know, all the things that will really make you feel sorry for me. And then I heard, above the roar of the wind and the cracking of the fire and the draught in the chimney, the waves crashing ashore not 40 feet from where I was sitting.
I've got saltwater all around me. Life isn't so bad after all.
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