A Little Cheese With That Whine?

A Little Cheese With That Whine?


“The grass may be greener on the other side,
but it still has to be mowed. “

It’s been one of those weeks, the kind where you question God as to the misdeeds that deserved your current state of affairs. You know, not enough money for all the monthly bills, the shower door breaks, the sewer drain backs up, and your last good fitting bra tears.

A friend calls to find a sympathetic ear. I’m not in the mood. As she pours out her woes, I interrupt, “I’m out of gas, I had to walk to work.”
“You started walking to lose that fat?” she replied
She did not get it. I tried again, “The washing machine is not ringing the clothes dry enough and it takes three hours to get our clothes dry.”
She countered, “My daughter ran up 700 minutes of text messages.”
The contest was off. “My In-laws banned us from their premises”
“My daughter’s principal called and we have a meeting!”
“My husband is deaf.”
“My dog died!”
“Okay, you win,” I concede. She decides to call back when I’m in a better mood.

It is not that I have it worse then anyone else, I know plenty right now that are suffering maladies worse then mine. It’s just that these are my problems, and damn it; I deserve a little pity party. That is what I tell myself anyway. I decide to wallow in it and find the perfect mood music. I get out my one country western CD by singer, “Terri Clark.” I skip to the song, Poor, Poor, Pitiful Me. I begin to sing along. My dog joins in the caterwauling. I look at the spoiled mutt and grumble, “ I should have your life.” The look in his eye’s say, “I’m not howling about my life, it’s your singing!” Everyone is a critic! This did nothing to lift my mood.

Later in the evening I try calling another friend. My friend teasingly asks me if I want a little cheese with my whine. Cheese and wine that sounds good. Eating is always my emotional fix and the wine would make me sleep. After the phone call I head to the refrigerator. Crap! Someone left the wrapper open on the cheese and it is all moldy. There is no wine, only grape juice. I pour myself a cup and head for bed. I decide a good nights sleep will help and I remember the last line in Gone With The Wind, “ Tomorrow is another day.”