Grievances, Punching Bags and Private Islands

Today was yet another day of wondering if I should have my head examined. My morning and afternoon were reminiscent of the thanksgiving turkey right after it had been decapitated before it made its way to your dinner table. There's a great mental picture for you. Anyhoo, stress seems to be in the air at the office, with no one able to run away from it. I believe that it gets into the vents, and well... There is no escape. I may need to invest in surgical masks.

The non-stop-so-you-better-buckle-up-and-learn-how-to-ride-it-out-graciously theme is our company motto. There never seems to be any downtime that exceeds 2.7 seconds. Ever. This is cause for approximately 8.3 mental breakdowns per hour, split between my office roomie and myself. Granted, it is not a 50-50 split. More like 70-30, with myself being the guilty party. I've discovered recently that I really do have a knack for complaining. This isn't a good thing, considering that there is no career path geared towards Professional Complainer. If there were, I could be a millionaire and buy a private island and then have to be more creative in finding things to complain about. Like the lack of coconuts for my pina coladas. Speaking of private islands, did you know that you can find relatively cheap islands for sale on the internet? I'm looking into it quite seriously, dependant on the outcome of the election.

The verse "do all things without complaining or arguing" has harassed the forefront of my mind lately. I personally think that God was a little too optimistic about the human race when he formed that thought. Being a chronic complainer who is attempting to rid myself of bemoaning, it just seems to me that our dear Lord may have entirely too much faith in my ability to shut my piehole. Venting keeps me from hurting people at work. Or taking a nail gun to my eyeball. Or yelling "WE'RE CLOSED!!" every time a co-worker opens my office door. Oh wait... Yeah, I'd continue to do that one regardless.

Perhaps I need a proxy for my grievances. Like a punching bag. That may help. Or maybe I can channel my frustrations into knitting scarves and blankets and then sell them on etsy.com to pay for my island. Speaking of which, you simply must see my lovely sister's lovely creations on her Etsy store if you haven't already. Its basically baby barrette heaven.

Oh well. On my quest for a complaint-free attitude, I shall just continue to force my mouth to stop spewing word vomit by stuffing it with food. God bless stress eating. Quite frankly, I would have been committed by now if it weren't for mashed potatoes and ice cream.