ABSTRACT
My friends feel sorry for me. They think this job has forced me to sacrifice my passion for literature. My wife complains I spend all my time here: “It’s a position the size of a sesame seed,” she says, “but you act as if it were a watermelon.” Like many of my friends, she thinks I’m a bit foolish. But there’s a secret I’ve haven’t shared with any of them: I’m happier now than ever before.
