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.

In the middle of world’s madness, happiness makes me think of her
Hermit life looks good as world tries to make me a misanthrope
What if we’re more talented than our inner fears allow us to admit?
Loss of majestic tree in my yard feels like death of an old friend
Trump bringing Marxism to U.S. better than Marx could’ve hoped
Goodbye, Bessie (2008-2018)
Memo to Republicans: Your serious contenders are hypocrites, too