When in drought, make a list.

In the last few days, my body has been waging the last battle of its campaign against me (dear God, let it be the last, and not just the latest) so I haven't felt like writing much, which makes me feel guilty, which makes me feel bad, so then I really don't feel like writing much. See that circle? And how it's vicious? Stupid circle. Since it's taken me so long to get my sorry butt moving, I figured a lame step was better than no step at all, so I'm going to go ahead and leech off of the fine work and actions of others by making a

List of Things That Make Me Happy Even When My Insides Hate Me.

1. The guy who walks down the block outside my office once a day singing Italian opera so loudly and so beautifully that I can hear him on the 5th floor.
2. My boss, who has been telling me for the last two years that he is going to hire said guy for my wedding/ anniversary/ birthday/ bat mitsvah and delivering said joke in his unchanging and possibly unintended deadpan style which is deader than any pan ever to walk the face of this earth, and then die.
3. People who shout thank-you's to their bus drivers as they disembark.
4. The recipe for chocolate chip peanutbutter marshmallow bananas that I'm planning to make on Friday.
5. This laughing baby.
6. My sister-in-law's recent engagement to a lovely young gentleman who makes her happy as a clam with OCD.
7. Successfully completing an epic and heartwrenching quest spanning many months and lady's clothing stores by finding the perfect grey cardigan last weekend, and making it mine.
8. The only bee in my bonnet.

Take that, uterus. Take that and suck it.