I'm Not Actually Poor, and My Life is Good.

My wife told me to tell you all that we're not really poor. The truth is, we live better than the vast majority of people in the world. I totally know this. The issues I discussed yesterday had just built up inside me, and I shared them for my own sake. Sometimes things add up, you know? I'm sorry if I gave anyone the impression that my life was turning to crap. It's not. I really am mostly happy, and more importantly am really blessed. God is awesome, NBA LIVE 2005 is awesome, and Dark Chocolate M&M's are awesome. Jill made chicken spaghetti the other night, and it was awesome. The Joe Schmo Season One DVD's we got from Netflix have been awesome, and probably worth their own post. I have a great wife who hates Oprah and chick movies. I have a great dog. My jobs aren't horrible in any real way -- It's not like I work in a coal mine or a collection agency or something. I live in a great apartment whose rent isn't going up next year. I'm doing fine. I just need some balance in my attitude.

For the most part, I don't let crap like this bother me. With that in mind, let me recount for you the things I have found outside our apartment patio, dropped from two floors above by our (psychotic) neighbors:
1) a toy gun.
2) child's shirt/pants.
3) A book on the Healing Light by Yogi Somebody-or-Other.
4) Four (4) presumably dirty balled-up diapers (I didn't investigate).
5) What appeared to be a clear pink plastic briefcase.

Looking on the bright side, I will tell you that they always clean things up within a week. I will let you know if they drop any more stuff, especially if it hits my dog.