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…