I tend not to think of myself as an optimist (mostly because I don’t pursue this line of thought), but this morning, I reconsidered. Walking through my neighborhood, on yet another cold rainy morning, at an early hour, my first thought when I pondered the work day ahead — with two long bouts of collaborative-executive-summary-draft-writing on the agenda — was how lucky am I to have this job where I get paid to write? I thought about how enjoyable it is to be reading a book set in a place I’ve visited, and what that adds to the imaginary landscape. I appreciated the polka dots on my umbrella, the warmth of my hoodie, the heart-shaped paperclip I found on the street last week (currently clipped to my pocket), and shoes that were mostly dry when I got on the T. And I admired the man who brought his breakfast with him: a bowl, filled with Fruit Loops and wrapped in plastic wrap, to which he added milk (that he also brought from home), and ate with a non-disposable spoon. That’s some real dedication to breakfast and/or Fruit Loops and/or sustainability; whatever the case, I was impressed.