Damn pothole, right there in the middle of the road.

Maybe I should have been paying more attention…or maybe the city should get up off of their ass and fix it (except for I don’t live in this city). I was pissed off and already having a bad day; a pothole in the middle of the road didn’t help.

I called my sponsor so that I could play my little violin of life’s saddest songs and give him a list of all of the injustices which have been bestowed upon me during this uniquely difficult life of the world’s first 240lb snowflake. As I was nearing the end of my rant, I asked him,

“Who do I even call to complain about a pothole in the middle of the road?”

He responded with,

“The same place you called to tell them how much you appreciate the smooth terrain and easy traveling afforded to you by all of the well-maintained roads.”

Ouch. Understood. More gratitude, less bitching.

Yes, I understand the whole, ‘It’s my taxpayer dollar and I have a duty to inform those in charge of the danger’, but the point is that an exercise in gratitude works wonders for all parties. He was not implying that I can’t complain or that I should be farting rainbows and pissing sunshine all the time, but rather that it’s easy to get so caught up complaining about the potholes that it’s hard to appreciate the miles of smooth travels.

He wasn’t pointing out how much I complain but more how little I praise and appreciate.

Be grateful. It could always be better but it could always be worse.

Complain when necessary but compliment whenever possible.

Peace, Love, and all things Beef related,