I've never been one to count my blessings. Instead I treat my blessings as an undifferentiated mass or conglomeration, that is when I'm not ignoring them completely or mistaking them for curses. To separate them and arrange them in orderly rows for the purpose of taking an accurate count would expose them to dangerous levels of scrutiny. For some reason I consider such contributions to happiness to be fragile affairs, vulnerable to damage from too much direct consideration, whereas elements of woe can be studied under surgical lighting with no danger of diminishing their destructive power. Why is that? Why am I almost superstitious about happiness but not about unhappiness? Why does self-consciousness so often dilute the energy from a happy state but sadness persists unabated, in fact seems to intensify the more you reflect on it? Have you ever been chided for "ruining" a happy moment by talking about it as it occurs, for breaking the spell? What kind of happiness is it if it can be so easily corrupted? Why am I asking you? I don't even know you. Or do I?