I'm such as ass

I'm such an ass.

I saw people in wheelchairs this weekend that will never walk again. I listened to a homeless guy on the Caltrain this morning babble incoherently about his Lamborghini in Los Angeles and his need for a phone to call an 866 number to get some kind of payment card.  I watched a blind man purposely shuffle from the train station down the sidewalk.  It's a chore for him to get to work everyday.

And last night, over dinner of organic meat hamburgers, three kinds of barbeque sauce, homemade cheese and frozen yogurt, I whined about my commute schedule like a spoiled brat.

I'm such an ass.

After reading a novel from a Nobel-prize winning author on my Kindle yesterday, I blamed stir-craziness and hopped on my $3000 triathlon bike for a 25-mile ride.  

I chose from five differently colored golf shirts and then packed by Bose headphone, iPod, and Via for this morning's train ride where I would be granted silence to read and think and write a little. But yet I found time to complain last night.

I'm such an ass.

Yesterday morning, I slept until 8:00 am for the first time in months, drove to a local coffee shop for French Toast, scones, and espresso with my loving wife, but I still managed to utter the words – "Everyone else gets to do what they want" last night.

I'm such as ass.