Monday morning

I've written posts, published them briefly, and then deleted them. Too many times I sound like a whiner. Wahwahwah. I guess sometimes I want to complain. Don't expect an answer from myself so I don't know why I do it. Let off steam by "shouting" into cyberspace? Maybe I just want to hear my own silent voice? Because, let's face it, my cats don't care if someone steals my debit card number two times in three months so the bank has had to shut down my card twice. My cats could care less that I was stupidly tired and frustrated at 1:00am so I took it out on my little digital Canon camera because it wasn't working the way I wanted it to and now I don't have a camera. My older cats are unsympathetic that my newly found kitten, whose owners never claimed him, is wearing me out with all his wired energy day and night; they just go outside to avoid the zoom-zoom of Denali. The walls of my villa are indifferent to my excitement and nervousness about my new job as a librarian in Tampa's downtown library starting 8/12 and that I will get to utilize all those years of graduate-level education (the loans for which I will be paying back to the federal government for decades to come). My car doesn't care that I fret over the high prices of gasoline and how those ever-wavering prices jackknife my sense of security about my limited funds. But, you know, life goes on and things always seem to work out in the end. Worrying doesn't accomplish anything. It won't make the oil companies and oil futures traders stop playing games with my everyday life. It doesn't embellish the health of my brain and my body. It won't create an attitude of abundance in my life. So, I guess I need to take a "chill pill" and give peace of mind a chance.