I spoke this evening to a friend with whom I do not often get to visit.

“You sound better,” he remarked.  I felt the firm weight of his assessment settle on my shoulders.  I feel better, I admitted.  And I found it to be true.

Earlier in the day, I sat at Succotash enjoying coffee before court.  I had ordered a sandwich that had turned out not to be very good.  The world’s nicest waitress had hovered a few inches from my table, eyeing me as I picked at the disassembled sandwich.  Not so good? she asked.

I felt a smile emerge onto my features as I shook my head.  Not so good, I acknowledged.  In a deft move, she whisked the plate from in front of me.  She returned in about five minutes.  Lunch, take two! she announced, setting down a thicker, bountiful offering on a clean plate.

A few minutes later, I noticed a woman sitting across the way, hammering at the keys of her computer, staring intently at the screen.  I snapped her photo with my tablet and gestured to the waitress.  This is classic! I said.  Quintessential coffee shop!  With bright eyes engaged, really engaged, we laughed and I posted the picture on social media, tagging the restaurant.

I paid my bill and made my way to court.  I tipped the waitress 20%.  I do not think I have ever “complained” about poorly made food with such finesse nor had quite the gracious response that I got today.

Sitting in my car at the end of the driveway after ten hours of work, I repeat my agreement with the disembodied voice of my friend over the Bluetooth.

I do feel better.  I really do.

I think I’m on the downhill slope.  I’ll soon be accepting nominations for the renaming of this blog when I get to the end of the twenty-fourth month of my year without complaining.  I expect to be ready.