A Love Story
I used to be a complainer. My mother was, too. Around my teen years, my father sat me down. He said, “I love your mother, but she complains. She can’t help it. I want you to live by this creed, though. Don’t complain about something unless you’re willing to lead the charge to fix it.” I’m paraphrasing, but that was the gist of the conversation. Complain away, provided you have a solution in mind. Otherwise, shush.