This morning, I tried to rush out of bed, only to tumble backwards because my still sleepy left leg gave way. I hit my back right on the protruding stand of the bed, and thought immediately that that was it; I was going to be paralyzed, or lose some motion in an unfortunate limb. And it just happened, as these thoughts sped through my head, that my little dog strolled in, happy as ever to see that her master has arisen. I took her into my arms and pretended that everything was fine. I tried to ignore the dull pain that still throbbed threateningly. After a second or two, I could still feel my limbs, and noticed that the pain had subsided a little, and so I tried to stand up. But I fell again because my leg had still not regained its usual vitality. All through the day, I kept feeling my backbone at the place it had been hit, trying to see if there was any lingering pain; if there was any chance that I might all of a sudden lose consciousness and wake up as a paralyzed patient. I think I worry too much sometimes; that something might happen to me and I’ll lose all these privileges which I daily take for granted. That’s the problem when you’re too happy, isn’t it? Everything is going so well, and that gets you worrying that all that happiness might be taken away in a single, surprising second. That is why I don’t like noticing my happiness; for the moment one notices that he is happy is when the vicissitudes of life bares its terrifying fangs.