Life is too Good to be Grumpy

The other day I was whining to a friend about
my apartment and the safety hazards that abound
therein. I guess the day was long, headache
unbearable, and concerns for the safety of my
children overwhelming. My friend pointed out
that my 'pitiful' circumstance was likely better
than 90% of the rest of this city and I had
no right to be so critical.

At first I was a bit frustrated that he just
didn't understand where I was coming from. He
didn't get my point and it was easy for him to
retort like that because he's safe and secure in
a lovely home with all the amenities the U.S. has
to offer.

But, as usual, this guy is absolutely right.
I have no right to complain. I have no right to
even have a bad day. Not when so many around
me have so much less. My children are not begging
on the street, I am not sleeping in doorways,
my husband does not have his leg so horribly
damaged that it now drapes uselessly over his
arm as he hobbles around on crutches. My friend
thinks that everyone in the U.S. should live in
a developing country for a few months ... I have
to agree with him.

The next time I am back home and things just
aren't going my way I'll have to remember
this life and reevaluate my priorities. Life
is too short and I am too fortunate to be grumpy.