It's my party

Okay, this is going to sound mean, but I’m going to say it anyway. I’m just too tired to care about anyone else’s problems today. Do you hear that? I just don’t care about your ailments, your troubled children or your fractured family. I’m pooped, worn out, in need of rest and have a bad attitude. I’m sure I’ll feel differently tomorrow after I’ve had a good night’s sleep, but today I JUST DON’T CARE! I’m not mad. I’m not upset. I just don’t have the energy to burp. I’m a pretty positive person and the problem with that is that people don’t know how to deal with me when I’m not sunny. Here comes the whine with this cheese…..

Everybody else in my family can have a bad day and get away with stomping around and venting his problems, but heaven forbid I have a bad day. “What’s wrong with you?” “Don’t take it out on me,” they say. Yet, I’m expected to listen to their rants and ravings or take their abuse when the world doesn’t turn their way. Why isn’t mom allowed to sulk? Why doesn’t she get a pity party every now and then? Well, I want one and I’m going to take it. Don’t bring me any of your worries. I have my own. Don’t tell me about your overbearing daughter-in-law or your tax bill. I don’t want to hear it. Don’t ask me to solve a problem for you. I’m all out of ideas. Don’t ask me for any sympathy. I can’t muster up any. Don’t ask me for my opinion because I’ll give it to you, and you probably won’t like it.

I’m making sandwiches for dinner, curling up in my recliner and getting lost in the beautiful, wonderful, gratuitous smut called “Grey’s Anatomy”. I’ll be over it by tomorrow, but in the meantime, it’s my party and I’ll pout if I want to.