If anything, I took less than usual. And, no, it is not my physical well-being that prompts this unusual display of glee. Physically, I feel as miserable as ever. All is right with the world. The birds sing and the fawn frolics.
Cherubs sing and play upon airy spinets.
And God is in his counting-house, counting out his money. I haven't felt this good since just before the influenza outbreak of 1918, when I myself contracted the disease. And before that, I had not felt light-hearted since the Great Black Season of 1894, when many ill events coincided across the Republic. Come to think of it, I only experience times of buoyant mood when disaster is about to bring the shit-hammer down upon my head. Copyright 2001 Onion, Inc., All rights reserved.