Last night someone from Rob's work called around midnight, after we were already in bed, because he urgently needed Rob's geek-genius expertise. Rob didn't come back to bed until after 2:00. This morning I figured he deserved to sleep in a bit, so when the alarm went off I asked him if he'd like me to reset it for a few hours from now so he could sleep longer.

"Hmm, I'll have to think about it," he said sleepily.

"Okay."

"It's a tough call because if I sleep in, I'll have to sacrifice [unintelligible]."

"You'll have to sacrifice what?"

"My bagel."

See, every Friday morning Rob's work provides bagels in the kitchen for employees. The number of employees has grown dramatically since this tradition first began, but apparently the number of bagels hasn't. So only the early Friday folks can finagle a bagel.

To me, there is no competition whatsoever between a couple extra hours of sleep and a fucking bagel. But a few minutes later, Rob crawled out of bed. Apparently the man just can't resist a cinnamon-raisin circle of bread slathered in luscious cream cheese. In fact, Rob's cheerfulness every "Bagel Morning" rivals the joy Stanley receives from the annual pretzel cart on The Office.

I have to hand it to the company Rob works for. They've maximized employee productivity and satisfaction. I mean, their employees work their asses off and they are utterly pleased to receive, as a perk, one weekly bagel. (Well, the opportunity to fight for one, anyway.)

But then, Stanley's Pretzel Day contentment stems from a sense of entitlement - given all the shit he puts up with, he feels he deserves, at the very least, the "prize" of a pretzel. Similarly, I guess it makes sense that if you've spent the wee hours of the night working, you're going to make hella sure you get a goddamn bagel.

• Sleep is a privilege, not a right. (At the beginning of each school year we used to get a pamphlet about school bus rules and it always said that riding the school bus was a privilege, not a right. I found that an odd thing to say, but now I repeat it every chance I get.) And the more you want sleep, the more it eludes you. And when you get it back, it becomes the most beautiful blessing of your life, one you cannot believe you have taken for granted for 26 years.




• It is possible, even with a supportive family, caring friends, a loving husband, and a cat who insists on spending every minute on your lap, to feel isolated.




• There is something about sunshine that suggests nothing bad can happen in the world. Ellen has the same effect.




• The obsessive attempt to diagnose one's symptoms online is itself a disease. Such search sessions not only result in anxiety, but also lead to the awareness of new symptoms that may or may not actually exist. But, even if one's husband forbids the activity for the sake of one's mental health, there will be irresistible opportunities to sneak it in.




• One of my particular talents is to assume the absolute very worst possible scenario without any evidence to support it whatsoever. This I knew already. What I didn't realize is that such a perspective can be nearly as destructive as the thing you fear.




• Months like this are actually esssential to happiness. To be truly happy is to appreciate the fact that you are happy - to be, if you will, meta-happy - and that's only possible if you realize that, like sleep and the school bus, happiness is a privilege. Any threats (real, potential, or imagined) to one's happiness serve as reminders to revel in life, to hug people close, to celebrate the beginning of a new month.

"When you're not dealing with health issues and not feeling terrified every day, you don't appreciate how lucky you are."