I'm about to complain. Ready?
I'm tired of being wrong, when I tried so hard to be right.
There, that's it. Everything that is upsetting me at this moment in a short, neat sentence. Looks nice, huh?
Anyway, complaining won't solve any of my problems. It will just make people not want to be around me. And I don't want that.
What I do want is to make an apple pie. I want to make the dough from scratch, I want to peel and chop the apples, and I want to assemple and decorate it. That would make me feel better. Isn't it interesting that food is a multitasker? If you treat it right, food nourishes body and soul. I like that. I also like that it satisfies the need for instant gratification. Making a pie doesn't take a lifetime, it takes a few hours. And you get to watch the transformation of separate ingredients into a single love-laced masterpiece. And it doesn't talk back, argue, or give you dirty looks.
Yeah, I want to make an apple pie later.