B. and I went out last night to celebrate, and she asked if I was
happy. I said, "About 70%. My happiness is a C minus. It's almost a
D." "But still passing," she said. And that made me happy.
This morning, the dog woke me because he was hungry. I fed him and went
back to bed. He woke me again because he needed to go out. I let him
out, but he wouldn't pee in the rain. I told him to get inside, and
after wiping his paws I went back to bed. He woke me again, but I told
him to go away until he really meant it. He woke me about an hour
later, and, sure enough, he meant it. I did not go back to bed.
Instead, I watched the sun rise and waited for the dog to fall asleep,
and when he did I woke him. This made me happy.
Tonight, after work, I will go home and feed the dog and let him out,
and the sun will go down, and tomorrow B. and I will meet for breakfast
and I will tell her that I am 72% happy—which is pretty good,
because improvement is all I have to look forward to, really; and over
eggs, B. will say, "Hey, do you remember Wigleaf?" and I'll say,
"Wigleaf! I need to get in touch with Wigleaf," and then I
will write and send you this postcard.
- - -
Photo detail on main page courtesy
of Sandro Menzel.
Read MG's story, "Come See the Monkey"
w i g · l e a F