It's a Beautiful Day!

I should be glad. It's in the sixties, I'm wearing a skirt and no tights, I went for a run, I took two year old baby clothes to the Salvation Army and other clothes and baby stuff to a friend, I baked a chocolate cake and will roast Melissa's chicken and will make frosting for the cake and will smother it with rainbow sprinkles, all to celebrate my husband's return. I should be feeling pretty good. But, really, now I have to run two more errands and all I've wanted to do today is to sit and read Parallel Lives, an unbelievable juicy book about five Victorian marriages. That autism article got under my skin, too. I need to cheer up and take the good, but doing so just seems, I don't know, too damn cheerful.