Are We Having Fun Yet?
An unlikely prescription.
It was recently brought to my attention that I do not have fun.
This observation wasn’t delivered by a judgmental acquaintance or aggrieved spouse, but rather by my doctor, inquiring after the shape of my life over the last few months.
“You know what I’m hearing?” she said, with a look that can only be described as withering. “You don’t have any fun.”
At first, I was defensive. Indignant, even. I do, too, have fun! I thought, flipping through a carousel of recent moments.
I sometimes watch a show (or three) in the evening. My running playlists maximize cheesiness. I make up songs about the dog and narrate the world through her point-of-view. (To that end, we recently recorded custom prompts in Waze in “the dog’s voice,” so she can provide navigation, and laughed for the better part of a car trip.) Once, like a month ago, I played cards at a bar I’d never been to before.
Sure, none of it was a trip to Disney. But I’m not joyless.
Apparently, none of this counted.
My doctor’s comment was les…
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