In the grand scheme — Nothing. That is, my family is not plagued by war. I don't have constant fears of disease or hunger. If I really wanted, I could have a pizza with everything at my house in 30 minutes, no questions asked.
But I'm still fuming. I'm mad that the T Mobile lady made me cry when I was canceling my service today. I'm mad that we can't sell our car. I'm mad that, apparently, the paper is holding pay for freelancers until the next pay period, which is after Christmas.
Seriously, how mad am I at that!
And it comes down to this: a few blogs ago I said I love "It's a Charlie Brown Christmas" because I love Peanuts. But it's more than that.
I am Charlie Brown.
"I just don't understand Christmas, I guess," Charlie laments. "I like getting presents and sending Christmas cards and decorating trees and all that, but I'm still not happy. I always end up feeling depressed."
Hear, hear Chuck.
"Charlie Brown, you're the only person I know who can take a wonderful season like Christmas and turn it into a problem. Maybe Lucy's right. Of all the Charlie Browns in the world, you're the Charlie Browniest."
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