It may be a lost love, like the boy you kissed in kindergarten (or maybe worse, like the principal) - a physical problem, like hemorrhoids (I don't think you can get worse than that) - family dysfunctions (which simply means you are like every single other family in America).
But there are late nights that we may weep a little weep, feel more than a little sorry for ourselves.
I always try the "count my many blessings" routine, which usually helps (all I have to do is think of Dick Cheney or Mississippi and WHEW, I'm doing GREAT), but tonight I was for some odd reason mentally listing all my physical defects.
Well, maybe it wasn't that strange - I was standing outside, trying vainly to hear where the greyhound was home (I'm half deaf) while rubbing my deaf ear (for some reason the "crest of helix " area keeps falling asleep) and seeing the white flashes from my glaucoma especially well in the dark, feeling the arthritis especially in my shoulders from the monsoon season and worrying about my mind going from early Alzheimer's.
And then I saw two shooting stars - one right after the other.
Suddenly I wasn't feeling at all sorry for myself.
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