Addicted to Complaining

According to Webster’s Dictionary:

ad·dict : to devote or surrender (oneself) to something habitually or obsessively


So if we step back and look at this, apparently I am addicted to complaining. Funny that before today I have never really looked at it that way.

I complain about people I know. I complain about being sick all the time. I complain about being fat. I complain about where I live. I complain about what I drive. I complain about being sued. I complain about my lawyer’s office. I complain about my work chair. I complain about my mother. I complain about my clothes. I complain about Oklahoma. I complain about doctors. I complain about music. I complain about the lawn. I complain about the paint color. I complain about my feet. I complain about church. I complain about traffic. I complain about my last job. I complain about other peoples children. I complain about my neighbors. I complain about the garbage men. I complain about my family. I complain about money. I complain about my pets. I complain about my friends. I complain about trains. I complain about mission companions. I complain about the Tabernacle Choir. I complain about Salt Lake City. I complain about wearing a watch. I complain about the fact that out of the 4 clocks I have to look at at work none of them are set to the same time. I complain about noise. I complain about the silence. I complain about the flavor of diet coke. I complain about sports. I complain about video games. I complain about always losing. I complain about being allowed to win. I complain about medications. I complain about nightlights. I complain about the dark. I complain about leaving the porch light on. I complain about flowers. I complain about desire or lack there of. ...

Yep, sounds like I’m complain about just about everything except for my husband and nap time.