I’m not complaining…
During my first week of French class, many years ago, one of the very first words we learned was râleur, or complainer. Back then, I wasn’t sure why our teacher was making sure we understood that particular word, but I’ve come to realize why it’s so important now. I’m not one to râle, or complain (although there are likely scores of people I’ve worked with over the years who would say otherwise), but this last week has been really hard.
At the beginning of the week, I walked into my place under full construction – everything covered with plaster dust, tarps strewn everywhere, random wiring in tangles all over the place, big gaping holes that one could easily fall through, with a lone toilet lurking in the corner. In short, the place is just able to accommodate only the most basic of human needs. (Food was represented by an empty package of cookies, and sex..well…Iet’s just say in its present condition, the place doesn’t exactly lend itself to romantic interludes.) But let’s not rule out any for the future, okay?





















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