One of those days

My problems are small compared to many others.

My daughter's aunt has stomach cancer.  My friend's friend is giving him fits.

Yes, things could be worse, but that doesn't really make my life any easier.

It is one thing to be grateful not to have certain problems.  It is quite another to deal with the frustration my own provide in great abundance.

My problems are small enough that they aren't worth throwing fits over, or doing anything rash in an attempt to fix them -- which is good, because none of those things would really help any way.

My problems are more like hang nails on your dominant hand, niggling annoyances that seem to grow bigger as the day progresses, but will never elicit much sympathy from anyone else.