I have discovered where the fountain of ever-lasting happiness lies. I like to call it the cave of optimism because it is the only place in the world from where the world always seems like a great place. And that is from the inside of a warm blanket on a winter weekend morning. You can give it a shot if you disbelieve me. Whenever it is that your eyes naturally open, after your body cannot take even a minute more of the excess oversleep that you have gifted it with, and feel a tremble of slothful pleasure run through your spine, start thinking of all that you want in life. In my case, it'd mean hitting upon a master plan which'd lead to a garage packed with exotic cars and bikes; a passport and means to travel anywhere I want to anytime; actual, complete control over my finances and an exercise regime that is the envy of all that see it.
Then there are the niggly, little everyday things like doing the laundry, putting my house in order, getting through the dozens of unread novels bought but ignored since and getting in touch with all the friends that I should have been in touch with, targets which are within the realm of possibility. Nothing is impossible in those first few minutes of wakefulness when your toes are warm and comfortable against the velvety coziness of the blanket. A smile as wide as the Amazon ripples across your face at the thought of this day being the day when you'll finally get your small and big acts together. Of course, the moment you swing out of the blanket, you'll find that you are out of toothpaste, the laundry machines are broken/taken over by women with 25 kids, and you only have the same measly amount of money in your bank account as you had the night before. All these tasers of bitter truth need not be revealed to you right away. They can be delayed for a few more minutes yet. In the snugness of the magic cave formed by your lazy body and one super-capable blanket, the facts reach out with a groping hand and hit the Snooze button.