How content would you say you are in life?
Personally I have to fight for contentment in my life. So in another effort to keep things in perspective and remind myself how hugely blessed I am, I present to you, dear readers the "First World Problems" series, problems only spoiled people living in the First World like me gripe about.
(Although the International Development grad inside me would like to inform you that the term "first world" is so passe, and hierarchal, and therefore completely inappropriate.")
On another side note: I have way too many labels, few of which I use. I would like to organize them...someday.
Last week our kitchen sink was clogged like an obese Americans' arteries. Even 3 bottles of liquid plumber and a plunger couldn't do a thing. The dishes piled up day after day that finally the only solution was to cart them over to the bathtub and do them there.
It took about an hour or so of awkwardly leaning over the tub to scrub stubborn food stuff that had crusted on to pots, all the while griping inside about my poor back that had to suffer such, such, SUCH unnecessary discomfort and why did the dang sink have to go and clog up, giving no thought to the fact that a) I have running water and b) I had eaten regularly in that week and therefore had to wash those dishes that I ate off of. Whew now there was a run on sentence. Beat that Apostle Paul, and or Dooce.
Personally I have to fight for contentment in my life. So in another effort to keep things in perspective and remind myself how hugely blessed I am, I present to you, dear readers the "First World Problems" series, problems only spoiled people living in the First World like me gripe about.
(Although the International Development grad inside me would like to inform you that the term "first world" is so passe, and hierarchal, and therefore completely inappropriate.")
On another side note: I have way too many labels, few of which I use. I would like to organize them...someday.
Last week our kitchen sink was clogged like an obese Americans' arteries. Even 3 bottles of liquid plumber and a plunger couldn't do a thing. The dishes piled up day after day that finally the only solution was to cart them over to the bathtub and do them there.
It took about an hour or so of awkwardly leaning over the tub to scrub stubborn food stuff that had crusted on to pots, all the while griping inside about my poor back that had to suffer such, such, SUCH unnecessary discomfort and why did the dang sink have to go and clog up, giving no thought to the fact that a) I have running water and b) I had eaten regularly in that week and therefore had to wash those dishes that I ate off of. Whew now there was a run on sentence. Beat that Apostle Paul, and or Dooce.
