Don’t you hate whiners? I know I do. I try to limit my whining, and only do it in front of a select few. Lately I have encountered a couple of whining situations that have become so tedious, I feel as though I have no alternative but to whine about them.
I was privately whining to the sister that I can’t claim assignments when the little guy interrupted me, whining about the tooth hanging out of his mouth.
He said, “Waaaah, waaah. My tooth hurts.”
I said, “I’ll fix it.”
He said, “Noooo! I’m not falling for that again!”
I said, “Then live with it.”
He said, “But it hurts and if it comes out tonight while I’m sleeping, I’ll choke on it and die.”
I said, “Let me just look at it.”
He said, “Uh, uh. You’ve tried that before, too.”
I said, “Then stop whining and live with it.”
He said, “But it weally, weally hurts.”
This went on for an hour until I reached for his tooth and he jerked his head to dodge me. The tooth fell out and he said, “Wow! That’s worth at least five bucks!” All that whining, and it cost me five bucks to boot.
So, I continued my own whining to the sister, explaining to her that I still haven’t been paid for a couple of articles, and still don’t get comment notices. In the middle of my rant, the middle child called and wanted someone to bring her old crutches to school because she didn’t like the ones the school nurse gave her to use.
I said, “Why do you need crutches?”
She said, “Because I twisted my bad ankle.”
I said, “You have a bad ankle?”
She said, “I’ve always had a bad ankle. Owww. I inherited my bad joints from you. Eeeeech. Can you hurry? It kills.”
I said, “What happened?”
She said, “I don’t know. I think I twisted it really bad when I fell down the stairs.”
I said, “You fell down the stairs?”
She said, “Well, duh, how else do you think I twisted my ankle?”
I said, “Why can’t you use the crutches the nurse gave you?”
She said, “They’re old, wood, and crappy looking. I neeeeeed my good ones. I’m dying heeeere. Hurrrrry!”
Now, this is the girl that spent ten years as a flyer on a competition cheering team, plays basketball like a raging bull, and re-pieced her own nose. What a sissy. The sister brought her the cool crutches, leaving me with no one to whine to.
When the sister returned, I continued on with my very important whining, like publishing twice yesterday and not getting my “Content Published” notices , which leads me to believe that no one else did either. I took a quick breath before discussing the logic of even bothering to publish if no one knows it, and she said, “Why don’t you take a couple of days off?”
I said, “From writing?”
She said, “Yes. Maybe that’ll help with the whining too.”
She’s got a point.