File this morning under, "I Hate When that Happens." I was out of sorts because I "had" to work out at my apartment complex' fitness center instead of taking my usual walk, run or bike ride along the beach. It was raining and I didn't want to get my phone wet. I use it to listen to music. To make matters worse, the news that morning was all so dismal. I vowed to stop reading it for awhile, as it was way too depressing. As I walked around the extremely well appointed center, picked up a freshly laundered towel, and decided whether to leave the TV on or not, I realized what an insular, privileged, horrible person I was being. One of those dreadful moments when you see yourself all too clearly. That part at least. Sure, the news was unsettling. But I was taking it personally, as if it was being done to me. And "having" to work out in the fitness center...ridiculous complaint. I'm thoroughly embarrassed that I even for one second considered myself put upon by those circumstances. Such a trivial thing, it's not even a thing. Just making stuff up for no apparent reason. You should see my life. It's a really comfortable, easy life, (so easy that I have to exercise on purpose and that I have more than enough time to do so.) It would be made even easier with a well-paying job. And even that's on the near horizon. One of those uncomfortable moments that I pray sticks with me for future reference. So really, I don't hate that it happened, I hate that I'd made it necessary for it to happen.