Primal Complaint

Ever have one of those mornings when you just want to bitch and moan about everything? You don’t want to do this because you actually have any valid complaints; you just feel like complaining? And whining? And carrying on as if your petty little problems are the most important god damn things in the world?

Now try following through on that when the only other conscious beings around you at 5:45 a.m. are a cat and a sasquatch. The cat couldn’t care less what you have to say. She just wants to come in, get fed and head out again into the darkness. And the sasquatch has discovered tetris and has been playing it obsessively since you went to bed last night. He’s still at it on Nizzibet’s iMac. We’re probably going to have to get her a new keyboard. Those big sasquatch fingers can’t be gentle on the thing.

Which leaves me to complain to y’all. Consider yourselves complained at.

What? You want details? Silly people.

All the complaints are pre-language growls, howls and snarls. It ain’t the substance that matters – it’s the sound. Text is inadequate.