All I Want Is What I Have Coming to Me

Today I tried to write a top ten list of things I love about my house, just as a counterpoint to my whiny rant from the other day. I didn't end up posting my list because I decided it sounded awful and consumerist (I love my huge dryer, I love my fancy dishwasher). The only item that didn't sound like Lucy's letter to Santa in Charlie Brown's Christmas was "#1: I love that the screaming sound upstairs is just my daughters playing and not my idiot neighbors fighting." And while this gem doesn't come off as hideously materialistic, it does reek of misanthropy. I'm turning into a horrible person.