Self-medicating and an Empty Head Full of French

Hole in the head. As it turns out, Earworms, although extremely effective, seem to hollow out your head while filling it with French, Italian, or whatever language you're cramming in. After two days, I feel quite comfortable ordering une bouteille de vin from some random woman with a sexy French accent; however, it has come at the cost of a splitting headache. The sort of toothache kind, a sort of hollow pain. Around three this afternoon, I was wondering what the problem was, a headache accompanied by an unshakeable ennui. So, being somewhat underworked anyway, I took a walk to Starbucks to grab a "short" and the parfait cookie, the molasses chew. My mind cleared, though it did take a while for it to fill back up again with the nonsense of city life. And my ennui resisted, turning a little nasty, annoyed, before settling into my more normal bemusement. And as I was reflecting, resisting judgment, on the juxtaposition of homeless folks hanging out in the little park in front of the World Bank, or begging at the corner of my law firm (one of the most expensive in the world), I figured out what my problem was. Bien sur! All that French.

Today's rule: Whenever I realize that I'm feeling down, I must self-medicate immediately, before it gets out of control.