Happy pills

Funny how clearly, easily it showed itself to me.
Odd that I could ever see it at all.

There I was, sitting at the dining table, empty lunch dishes around me. I had read webpages for an hour after I returned from the gym, cleaned myself up, and made lunch…
where I read some more. This is totally unsurprising; my favorite Electric Company character has always been Easy Reader, because he was the first other-person in my tribe. (And he was on TV! So there must be additional non-TV people in the tribe!)

“Top to bottom, left to right…” Lay it on me!

I’d finished eating, and turned from Consumer Reports back to my pocket computer. My finger hovered again above the Facebook—my deal with myself to not-FB until after lunch is still on—and I dove in for a few more articles. Yep, half of my FB life is reading the articles others recommend. Mmm, mmm, mmm. “Close when striking!”

Today I paused myself before falling thoroughly down the social media rabbit hole. I gazed obliquely at the table. It’s after lunch, and I have yet to begin any of the things that I’d noted down—things that, done today, will make my life smoother. Because tomorrow has very little room, and Friday’s looking full as well. I felt a frisson of pressure. I thought about standing up and gathering dishes…

and I reached for my phone. To play a game (or three) of Solitaire. As I reach, I ask myself, why?

Because it’s a little dose of pleasant before I tackle the cortisol space, I reply.
(Not in those words, but those are the words that map best to my response.)

Huh. I mean, I pretty much knew this, and current research supports it,

but getting a snappy answer was unexpected.


The catch is, of course, that the little dose is hard to meter.

I wonder, though, if getting an answer means I can negotiate with my inner nonverbal. I used to work well with toddlers…

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