I walked out into the busy mall, which normally sets my teeth on edge, with a huge grin on my face, as if I had just had a two-hour deep tissue arometherapy Swedish massage, rode down the escalator beaming, bought some not-so-cheap dark chocolate (isn't that what you need, girls, when all is well with the world?) and made my way home, even the asinine drivers on the roads not getting a rise out of me.
I must do this regularly. Under the excuse of "listening to how writers write dialogue". I think that'll fly with the boss (i.e. Me). No?