It was just a few minutes after 11 p.m. when I put Lucy’s leash on her and we headed outside for our late-night walk.
Before I even got outside, I heard unexpected noise. It sounded like people laughing. They were loud. I felt annoyed.
When I opened the front door and stepped outside with Lucy, I realized that my young next-door neighbor had a group of people over. I don’t know how many. I saw at least six extra cars.
They were at the back of the house — possibly in the back yard right next to mine — and they were loud enough that I could hear them talking and laughing all the way to the street in front of our houses. I felt mildly angry.
“He shouldn’t be having this kind of loud party this late,” I thought, “especially on a weeknight.”
As I silently walked down the street with Lucy, I kept hearing their laughter. And then it hit me why I felt angry.
They were happy. I’m not. And I felt jealous of them.

Arrival of better financial days makes me value my painful past
When times turn too dark in my life, I’m grateful for furry antidepressant
How much of what we do is driven by our unconscious social scripts?
This news just in: Aging drug warrior Bill Bennett is still an idiot
There are more of us than ever, so why do many of us feel so alone?
To become extraordinary people, we can’t behave in ordinary ways
Dickens’ ‘David Copperfield’ far superior to postmodern novels
As nightmares plague my friends, I’m grateful mine have subsided