I’m not saying I’m into suffering, but the resemblance between this offering from JewishFunnybone.com and the woman in the mirror is just too uncanny these days:

I’m packing four people’s belongings for a move across the country and I’ve just realized it’s ALL a bunch of crap; I’ve had a hacking bronchial cough (with attending phlegm) for a month; my 2-year-old simply will not discuss her gastric urges, preferring instead to let someone discover them after the fact, usually as I’ve buckled her into her carseat — squish; I’m leaving my beloved hippie Californian paradise for God-knows-what in the deep South in less than six weeks; although El Yenta Man remains sexy and loyal, I may murder him for watching surfing DVDs when he should be sorting through the disaster area called his closet; I’m out of chocolate.

Even though any and all of the circumstances behind this kvetching are temporary, it all just feels so Sisyphusian.