A few times in a week, I become illogically happy. For instance, this morning I woke up with a grouch on my shoulder the size of a really large, designer handbag, with the volume of a distorted guitar through a Marshall stack. And then, inexplicably, I felt as though little bath buds of rose-scented bliss were exploding inside my heart. I've become all fluttery, optimistic, alive. I don't know what's going on, but I know I like it.



