Is Complainin Insane-in?

It is morning, I woke up before the alarm, which is always a good thing, but it's still doubtful that I'll make it to work on time. Tardy, tardy, every day. I feel like the biggest asshole some days, frantically driving to work. I'm really never that late; 5 minutes, 3 minutes. But it's the idea. I think I like the adrenaline rush and the drama. The sweat, the stories that swirl through my head as excuses.
"You see, there was this woman and her children, they were waiting on the corner for the bus, and the child was bleeding, so I had to take them to the hospital."
"Oh, it was terrible, a herd of gazelles trampled through my apartment this morning. Christ knows how they got onto the second floor of the building!"
"Jesus, it was like an obstacle course coming to work this morning, all the goddamn potholes that good-for-nothing lousy mayor has yet to have filled! Almost got into an accident at least FIVE times swerving around. Then I had to fill it with the extra concrete I keep in the trunk."
Or I get self-righteous in my mind.
"I was exhausted this morning and didn't even feel like fucking coming in. So back off!"
(Meanwhile, the orange cat just shit, came out of the box, and slid his heinie across the floor, licked it furiously, ran into the bedroom, and jumped onto my bed. Thanks, orange cat, for potential poop stains.)
I am just in an awful mood today. Everything is tainted with anger. Sharp criticisms fuel my brain and tinge my perspectives.
I either have a sinus infection or need a root canal and cannot tell which is which. Fortunately, I am taking care of myself and went to the dentist yesterday, who is suggesting the root canal, but he doesn't seem sure. He recommends root canal because, "why not?" Christ. To my credit, when asked if I wanted something for the pain, I said no, because this is not narcotic pain. I'm very self-congratulatory with this. In any case, I anticipate a headache all fucking day.
My gray cat is a fat lump of lumpiness lumping AND he has dandruff AND he meows too much sometimes.
My v-neck sweater vests are stupid merino wool (I WANT CASHMERE!) and have those fabric pills that look like a disease and I hate them.
Oscar nominations are announced today and, once again, I won't be nominated.
The landlord has not been keeping the heat up, though the temperature is down.
I struggle with money, and this is nothing new and it makes me anxious and angry and it is gross, that is my grand proclamation.
I do not have anonymous sex anymore and I feel lonely. Where is God? Hello?
Ugh, it's fucking work to not be miserable sometimes. My spiritual advisor talks of negative thoughts being like a flock of birds that come to land in the brain. They flutter there, make noise. But we do not have to let them perch. Don't have to feed or entertain them.
But, I realize, sometimes I want to entertain them, feed them crusts of bread and old pretzels. They do keep me company. I know those birds quite well. Can't deny this, but I do hate myself for that.