So, this morning I am slightly off as a result of imbibing a series of lovely cocktails last night with M. And yet, even though I have a headache, even though I have a huge paper to write, even though it’s not nice outside, even though the economy sucks and nothing is settled, I’m still happy.
It has been suggested (not entirely unreasonably) that my standards are low, and consequently I’m disproportionately pleased by the relatively unspectacular good things in my life. But I’m happy just the same. It seems kind of irritating and tempting-fate to say so, but sometimes I’m just so struck by it… that I’m happy, now, still, and don’t see any reason I shouldn’t continue to be so… that I want to take note.
