Count Your Gratitudes, in the New Yorker

Sometimes I forget to do my Gratitudes, and that’s just dumb.

Because when we don’t take the time each day to count our Gratitudes, our Ingratitudes rush right in and take over. And then we are off to the fucking races, are we not? Life can seem to be nothing but the accretion of the many unfortunate, heartbreaking, humiliating things that happen to us, until we finally die, alone and in diapers, leaving all of our money to two cats named Bosco and… Read more at the New Yorker.