I am often unhappy. My shrink thinks it's because I was kidnapped when I was four and that the experience has colored my every waking moment, but my son says I should get over it already, that really, nothing bad happened and it was just one day, a long time ago. Who's right? No telling.
Still, when I hear other adults complain about their childhood traumas or their mean parents or whatever the heck it was that happened to them fifty years ago, I think, "Why lick old wounds when things are bad enough in the here and now?" ISIS is out to get us, Trump is ahead in the polls and Hillary awaits her coronation, so go out for a walk or whatever it is that turns you on, since today is the first day of the rest of your life. (Blah, blah, blah.)
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