I woke up in a funk today. I logged at least twenty-five deep sighs before ten o’clock.

“Do you want to go to the museum tomorrow?” Sheila IM’ed.

“I don’t know,” I responded. “I’m despondent.”

Finally, I left for the Y to try to swim away the bad attitude.

On the way there, I called Rachel, who tolerated about ten additional audible sighs. I could tell the funk was extra thick because I was speaking longingly to her about going back to school.

After I got to the Y, I stood in the vestibule for a few minutes, sighing and droning on until I decided to just get on with the exercise.

“Call me back later,” Rachel said.

“Sure,” I agreed. “I’ll probably have to call you because I’ll go in and weigh myself and discover that I have yet to lose a single pound this summer despite working out for -- wait for it -- FIVE HOURS EVERY WEEK.”

And then sure enough.