Went back to bed after breakfast again today. Kind of discouraging.

The rest of the day was kid time. My nephew’s birthday party. I rallied. Pulled out Uncle Dave’s A-Game.

And when I was driving Mom’s pink truck down I-10 through Phoenix, birthday boy riding shotgun and wearing giant orange sunglasses I won for him at the arcade, and his two little friends in the pull down seats behind us, wrapped presents knocking their shins and Radio Disney on the AM dial as we bounced back home for a Costco cake, I had one of those moments when you step outside yourself and outside the moment for a moment, and you see things from an objective distance, and you reflect and realize things. In this one, everything hushed out, and I looked around me and nodded: this is good, this is fun, this is healthy, I’m in the world, doing normal-y things. No, I admitted, it’s not as exciting as copping crack and meeting wackos (and I sincerely mean that in the most endearing and appreciative way). It’s not. But neither does it ruin my health, drain my wallet, blot everything else from my life, and screw up my very existence. Okay, I got a little dramatic there. I can keep it simple: there was no feeling yucky afterwards. And that’s reason enough.