D.D.D.

Does your brain ever feel like a zit? You know, all puffy with infected thoughts. Like if you could physically scour out the inside of your skull, the smog would thin, the economy would improve and sitcoms would be funny again.

You may be having a Dysfunctional Downer Day™. (Okay, I’m kidding about the ™ part, though someone else may have trademarked this by now)

Like a zit, a particle of dirt (bad news, traffic, some idiot in the elevator with too much cologne) works its way into your consciousness, causing a build- up of bile that not only poisons your mood but can turn your very presence toxic for a ten foot radius.

Worse, the D.D.D. is contagious. Only the most stalwart can isolate themselves until the phenomenon dissipates. (Of course, solitude breeds reflection, which is counterproductive to mood improvement)

There are treatments for D.D.D., such as starchy foods, a good book (preferably one you’ve read before so you don’t get any nasty surprises) or the ultimate—pet a dog. The effect of the cure is in direct ratio to the cuteness of the dog. For example, being cut off in traffic only requires a schnauzer-level of cuteness and you’re good to go. However, really bad news takes a corgi-pomeranian mix. Fortunately I have one of those in my living room, and am going to pet him right now. I don't know what the rest of you will do, though the early works of Calvin Trillin are always a safe bet.