The Happiest Little Boy In The World

Yesterday, for about half an hour, I was the happiest little boy in the whole wide world.

You see, for days I've been what a literal-minded economist might call "cash poor." My ATM card is Visa-non-grata at every bank in town and, like some careless teenager, I've long since frittered my money away on books and plays and Polish brothers' films.

But yesterday, I wrote a check to one of my housemates (the opera singer) and got myself some cash in exchange. Then I walked outside.

And to an Eels concert.

It was—of course—a great time.