A Visit to the Optimistrist

The world feels more somber than usual today. It must be the overcast skies or it might just be my mood. I have a tendency to project sometimes.

On days like these, I wish optimism was something I could add to my morning cup of coffee. Instead of adding Sweet 'n Low, I would add Bright 'n Cheery (or an appropriate substitute). Or, I wish I could schedule an appointment with a licensed optimistrist (a.k.a. an optimism doctor). The visit might go something like this...

Optimistrist: Hi, I’m Dr. H. What seems to be the problem?
Me: I'm feeling a little low, Doc.
Dr. H: (scribbles something on a pad) Mm-hmm. Low, yes. Have you tried adding Bright 'n Cheery to your coffee?
Me: I didn't know it existed. I thought I was just making it up.
Dr. H: (scribbles some more) Ah, you're right, you were. Very good, you passed the first test. Let's try another one and see if we can't pinpoint the problem. If you would just stand behind the yellow line with the happy faces on it and cover your left eye, please. Now, if you would just read the first line on the chart.
Me: (squinting with my right eye) Uh, futility, bleakness, hopelessness.
Dr. H: (continues scribbling) Very good. If you would cover your other eye and read the third line from the bottom please.
Me: Uh, it looks like desolation, despair, doom, death.
Dr. H: (stops scribbling and snaps his notepad shut) Perfect! Well, in my professional opinion, you're suffering from a dark and dreary outlook on life. The good news is that everybody experiences it from time to time.
Me: Uh, I suppose that's good news.
Dr. H: (grabs something from a nearby drawer) The better news is that it's easily correctable. All you have to do is wear these. (puts something in my hand)
Me: It looks like a pair of glasses with flashlights glued to the frames.
Dr. H: Ah, that's the beauty of the Sanguinivision 2020. It looks like normal glasses...
Me: With flashlights glued to the frames.
Dr. H: (doesn't miss a beat) But it’s so much more. It actually monitors your optimism levels and whenever they drop too low, the S-2020 activates the lights to give your optimism a boost. Consider it mood lighting.
Me: What? You expect me to believe that this dollar-store contraption will brighten my entire outlook on life?
Dr. H: Exactly. I have complete faith it will work for you.
Me: That's ridiculous!
Dr. H: Don't be so pessimistic. Here, try it on, cover your right eye, and read the third line from bottom again.
Me: (wearing the flashlight glasses and covering one eye) Grr, fine! Uh, purpose... possibilities, positivity, potential. What the hectare?!
Dr. H: Excellent! Try the first line again.
Me: Fulfillment, bliss, hope. Wow! That's incredible, Doc! I don’t know how to thank you.
Dr. H: Ah, there is a small matter.
Me: A small matter?
Dr. H: Yes. The bill. I'm afraid your health plan doesn't cover cosmetic psychology, so $145,000 will be more than enough to thank me. By the way, I accept VISA, MasterCard, and PayPal.
Me: $145,000! I can't afford that! Tell me, Doc, what does my health plan cover?
Dr. H: Ah, very good, I'm glad you asked. (plucks the glasses from my hands and hands me something else) It covers this.
Me: Oh, I see. This must be a special mood-modifying device that just looks like a light bulb attached to a rubber band, right? What is it called? The HappyLamp 3000?
Dr. H: Actually, no. It's a light bulb on a band, but if you believe it to possess special powers, I'm positive the placebo effect will work wonders for you. Good day!

Even in my imagination, prescription optimism is expensive. Oh well, at least the world doesn't seem so somber now. Plus, the sun is breaking through the clouds, so today might not turn out to be so bad after all.

If you only get to see one television show this week, I highly recommend NBC's Thank God You're Here. It’s an improvisational comedy that premieres tonight. I watched the first hour online and it's extremely funny. Of course, it probably won't be as funny as ABC's top comedy (the rose ceremonies are a hoot).