To hear complaints is wearisome alike to the wretched and the happy.
________________________Samuel Johnson, Rasselas
If your toaster won't work, eat bread.
All night torrential rain drove against
your flower beds, water puddles up
your lawn. Pigeons won't take your
soggy offerings and even the brutal
jays refuse to fight. Beaten sun frowns
through gray spikes of cloud. Take my
advice, go home and lie down. Even if
sleep won't come, the inside of your
eyelids will soothe your nerves with a red
version of night. Amoeba-like patterns
sail across your field of vision like ghosts
of ancient fish. Count each one, and
trace its intricate shape on a corner
of your mind. Such skill and concentration
will comfort you. You wish it were warmer,
you wish your head didn't throb with pain.
If only summer would finally beat
down the doors of spring! Remember,
for every heartache you read about
in the New York Times, a thousand more
escape your notice. When you watch
the news tonight, pretend It's just a moral
tale; we all get exactly what we deserve.
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