If you consult your 2012 Wondermark Calendar, you know that today is St. Whinge’s Day! Have you been watching for children with caps in their hands? I spent a good fifteen minutes outside this morning, ranting and raving about the ills of the world and jangling quarters in my pocket, but all I got was a dirty look from an old woman.
Still, I think this is a grand opportunity to whinge, whine and moan about bad luck, the unfairness of the universe, or petty injustices that otherwise would have to go repressed. For the next few hours, this is a safe space to be whiny. Here, I’ll start:
- I got some strawberries from the farmer’s market just on Sunday and they are already all brown and soft! I suspect that the ones underneath the top layer were going bad before I even bought them. OH ST. WHINGE PRESERVE US!
- I have been locked in a nonsense nitpicky battle with the IRS for seven months over the fact that our publishing company (Machine of Death) is partly owned by a Canadian! We are trying to run a small business and create jobs but we have been hitting absurd roadblocks every step of the way. OH ST. WHINGE PRESERVE US!
- I visited an art-supply store and parked in a space with ten minutes left on the meter. I forgot to check the time when I went in, then got engrossed inside the store deciding whether to buy the bigger tube of paint ($8) or the smaller one ($5). I did complicated mental math trying to decide whether I’d really use all of the bigger tube, or whether the smaller, cheaper one would do. In the end my agonizing deliberation about whether I could safely save $3 earned me a $65 parking ticket. OH ST. WHINGE PRESERVE US!
Now you! Leave a comment with your own complaint — and let me be the first to say, “Well, that’s just incredibly bad luck, that is!”
(Next holiday we will observe: January 28: Y’haug’f’than)
The men’s restroom at work flooded overnight and has been closed all day while they fix it. I have had to walk down one ENTIRE flight of stairs each and every time I need to visit the necessary! And then, I have to walk back UP to reach my desk. OH ST. WHINGE PRESERVE US!