I think there is something valuable in a misanthropic outlook; if you have low expectations, then you'll rarely be disappointed. That said, I'm haunted by one character in a Nicole Holofcener movie. It's Frances McDormand; she is so deeply bitter, she seems gratified whenever she finds a new reason to complain. There is one scene where she goes with her spouse to a diner, and no one pops up to refill her coffee. A curtain of madness descends over her beady eyes; she becomes drunk on her own fury. It's not that she is wrong to feel annoyed; it's the *depth* of the irritation that is troubling. When I watch that, I cringe, because McDormand reminds me too much of myself. So here's a sunny, radiant story. On my birthday, I wanted to go for a swim in the ocean. I planned to remove my wedding ring, because it sometimes gets loose on my bony finger, even after a re-sizing. I announced my plan, then yanked on the ring--and, finally, I watched as it sailed off my finge...