As I drove into work this morning, I pondered out loud how downtrodden I was. How unfair it was I had to be at work on such a beautiful day, how the traffic was so awful, and how I had another mundane eight hours ahead of me. I was really feeling sorry for myself. Until I hear this:"Ten terrorist bombs tore through trains and stations along a commuter line at the height of Madrid's morning rush hour, killing more than 190 people and wounding 900." These people were all on their way to work, too. Or going to see friends, family, spouses. They probably don't even know what happened. They wouldn't have had time to react. For those who weren't killed but injured, their lives have changed forever. I need to stop whining and appreciate the relative security in which I live.