Ep. 35: The man who has everything, has Nothing to complain about

At least, I have Milo - who makes me smile every time he calls me "Papa"

Friday, May 17

I woke up this morning hoping it was Saturday. Alas, or rather, thank God, it's Friday. I'm confused.

By 6:40 the haze had lifted and I was in the shower scrubbing, soaking, simply trying to wash away my earlier disappointment, so that I may readily embrace responsibility.

As I've told my colleagues a couple of times this week, I may be disappointed by how my work morphs into a homogeneous blah of boringness after all the edits, rewrites and approvals, but, at least, I have a job, and moreover, it's a job I love to do.

So, at least, I have a warm bed to pull away from; at least, I have a beautiful home, Dominguez Manor ; ), which I can home to and call my own; at least, I have a great bunch of boys that I am looking forward to playing basketball and watching Iron Man III with this weekend; at least, I have a little baby boy who looks up to me, scoots to meet me upon my return home and makes me smile with every garbled "Papa"; at least, I have a beautiful wife who I am deeply in love with and who is carrying our little princess, Olivia; at least, the sun still shines every morning I have to get out of bed to go to work.

At least, I'm alive and well and can write, because I love to write.

Okay, I feel better now.

Caffeine is kicking in, the two guys incessantly chatting about their boring lives have faded with the focus upon this composition, and we're almost at Grand Central Station, spoke-and-hub for the greatest city in the world.

I have really have nothing to complain about.

At least, I have this gorgeous view on my commute home