As I wait for inspiration, my eye strays to a button down at the bottom corner of the screen: "Complain." Like a command, a demand, "Go ahead, let it out."
But what do I have to complain about? The dog snores next to the bed, while the cat stalks back and forth in the nighttime house that is her domain after we go to sleep, and my wife lays next to me in bed, scrolling through Facebook, waiting for me to finish up, and you know, I'm good.
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