Dining and whining.

I am in Starbucks, Pearl drive, rotting on my chair, my head about an inch away from my laptop, with my head protesting, yearning to ache. I am not whiny, am I? See, the funny thing is that back when I had nothing to do--back when I was rotting in my living room, watching television reruns (or The Playlist on MTV); back when I was close to losing it much too frequently (and easily); back when I actually had the time to nurse my pouch by eating a bag of Cheetos and downing a can of Coke one too many times a day--I also found myself whining nonstop and wanting to get my brain cells worked up. I don't get me.

I had only 5 minutes to spare for myself and I caught myself whining. Again. Seriously, I should give Him some credit for being so patient with me. Maybe I should spare another 5 minutes to thank Him. That's not a question, is it? Okay. I think I will.