At my birthday party I told a story from when I was young and working in the private sector: one of my coworkers had a book with hypothetical questions in it, and several of us were answering them. One was if you compared yourself to 99 other people your age, where would you rank in happiness? I immediately said the second happiest, since there could always be someone happier than I was, and my coworkers all scoffed at me: “YOU? You don’t have such a great life!” I countered that the book only said these other 99 people were my age, not where they lived, and I lived in a country with freedom and peace and plenty. Maybe they lived somewhere with war and famine and suppression. We were all in our mid-twenties, and they said, “Oh… I hadn’t thought of that.” So after I told this story, everyone at my birthday party kept joking about how I am the second happiest person in the world. Now it may even be true – I am much happier than when the original story took place. Even little things make me happy, like that every day on the bus I pass a street called Castle Place, where there used to be an actual castle, and then further down the route I pass a house constructed from the actual remnants of that castle. So you can imagine how happy big things make me, like having a fantastic husband like Travalon! And all my wonderful friends. I think I really am the second-happiest person in the world!