I don't quite know what to say to my brethren here on the Intertunnel. You're all so far down the rabbit hole of woe we need spelunkers to find the top of your head.
I'm Irish. All my songs are supposed to be sad, and my wars merry. But compared to you all, I'm Pollyanna. Listen to me: Every day above the lawn is the Best. Day. Evar. --if you'll let it be.
Ask any five-year-old. Or their father.