The late-night sadness of seeing from 20 paces that the office candy jar has been refilled with despised black licorice, when the planned high point of one’s day was grabbing a handful of Werther’s butterscotch to eat in the elevator on the way down to the underground bike parking cage–a sadness compounded by the knowledge that nobody else likes the black licorice either, so it will be there for many nights to come.
The small moment of delight in getting voicemail, not a person.
The disappointment of checking one’s RSS reader to note that one has not updated one’s own blog.
The strong desire to bounce on, roll around in, and possible eat, the bed of fluffy clouds beneath one on an airplane.
The inability to enjoy a movie until one has established who that character reminds one of.
*Crediting the great Merlin Mann.