Forget Lexapro and Cymbalta. Flush your Prozac, your St. John's Wort and your Rozerem down the can...I have the new anti-depressant.
Yes, that's right. Gingerbread cookies. I mixed me some dough last night, waited in anticipation as it chilled for an hour in the fridge, rolled it out with an old-fashioned wooden rolling pin (none of this space age neon coloured plastic for me - screw you Bed, Bath and Beyond), and used 4 of my 32 brand new "occasion" cookie cutters (thanks Bed, Bath and Beyond)!
They cooled, I racked 'em, shifted them to the living room in front of the TV set, and decorated to my hearts desire. Even though it made my hand really sore to continually squeeze that tube of icing, I custom did every one of them - I even have a Groucho Marx Gingerbread man.
Result? I am happy today. Even the fact that my new Greencard arrived yesterday morning with my old unmarried name on it doesn't irk me so much. Oh well, it'll be another year before all that gets settled, but at least I have my cookies.