Yes, a whine is a noun. And that’s no typo — I did intend to use the plural of it in my title. I’d like to continue the complaining I started yesterday. Please? OK-Thanks! I’ve got about 27 more hours worth of work to do today. By “work” I mean all the stuff I do at that place (also referred to as “work”) for the people who pay me. Then, I need to get home & pack. Tomorrow I fly back east to begin my holiday with the family, which is a good thing. It’s just the escalation of tasks that lead up to getting on that plane that could sometimes drive me . . . well, you know. Heck, you probably have it worse. Whoever you are. You probably have toddlers circling your knees wanting chicken nuggets and candy canes. I have no idea how parents of young children do it.
As I mentioned yesterday, the home modem is dead–has been dead since Saturday morning, actually. So I’m currently writing at home, saving to my thumb drive and uploading at work. Incidentally, aren’t thumb drives one of the more amazing inventions? Mine had been sitting here collecting dust until the wireless became nothing but air. I was whining that I didn’t want to lug that giant laptop (what is it 3 lbs?) all the way to work (2.5 miles), and then I remembered – The Thumb Drive! Okay, I admit it: I’m spoiled. Speaking of that . . . I work one block over from a place called “The Third St. Promenade”. These days, after sunset, it looks like this:
Isn’t it beautiful? I’m so lucky. See? I cheered myself up. Sometimes talking through the selfish whines isn’t such a bad thing.