GRATEFUL... dead grateful, we are around here... if not quite the grateful dead.
My computer in-box is chock full of emails about sound reasons to be thanking the universe.
Even as a tree hugger, it all feels faintly ridiculous. But if you wake up in the morning and list three reasons why you're happy to be here, then you start the day with a lighter step.
At least, that's the theory – and you should never knock it 'til you've tried it.
In Ian Dury's Reasons To Be Cheerful Part 3, he cites "some of Buddy Holly" and "the working folly".
"Good golly Miss Molly," says he.
That was in 1979. Life was very sweet back then. Thank you for those days, as the Kinks sang!
And on the subject of gratitude, my aunt was knocked down by a car once and took a while to get off the crutches.
Someone presented her with a large wooden sign that said: "Get on your knees and thank God you're on your feet".
It felt a little bit bossy to me. But it hung in her house along with the tweed thatched cottage picture with two shamrocks in the top corners.
One had a picture of St Patrick and the other featured John Francis Kennedy. Those were the days.
But I'd put Hillary Clinton inside a large shamrock these days if it would help. I shall be eternally thankful, if Trump just goes away.
Hey, I'd build a big wall to keep him out.
Meanwhile, I'm lighting candles in holy places and on the hearth and remembering that the holidays are just halfway over in our house – Sorrento is a beautiful dream now and our boy has another month in his cosy bed here before he strolls off into the sunset that is university halls.
The nests in our back garden shall not be the only empty ones this autumn and the thought shifts and crumbles like soft earth in my heart and makes me sigh.
But let's be grateful for the time we have – savour the moment and grab a last hug.
Remember Pollyanna? She got the gift of a crutch at Christmas and was just so very thankful that she didn't need it.
Personally, I'd have whacked the giver with it. But that's just me.
The most useful present to come my way this week would be a large ear trumpet – the kind that dates from Victorian times.
I'm desperate and it's already top of my other half's Christmas gift list. He hates having to come up with exciting ideas. But this one hits the spot.
I've always been a bit deaf. People in our house know that it is important to address me personally from the same room.
No amount of shouting down from the top of the stairs will get a message through to Planet McCann.
It's trivial really.
But, as my mother points out, it all stems from 50 years ago, when I was an innocent five years old and a local child coaxed me over to our garden gate then produced a heavy toy gun from behind her back and whacked me across the ear with it.
The result was a perforated ear drum.
I don't remember much about it. But my aunt forever after referred to the perpetrator as 'that devil child'. I hope she gets her comeuppance.
The result is that I've always been a little deaf.
But after a protracted period in the swimming pool 10 days ago, the left ear bunged up and gave up the ghost completely.
It's temporary, I know – but oh how I miss my left ear.
On a night out, my other half suggested that I sit with my bad ear to the wall. In the noise of the cafe, it made little difference. I gave up on the conversation. Lip reading takes a lot of concentration
I went back repeatedly to the little bottle of drops. I Googled my problem, as you do, but all I got was a gruesome but fascinating video depicting a doctor's removal of an enormous lump of ear wax.
It made Game of Thrones look like Andy Pandy.
I rang the doctor. Did you know that you need to see both a doctor and nurse before you can get your ears syringed?
They like you to wait for a good long time and put in loads of drops.
As Diana Ross sang oh so long ago: "I'm still waiting... oh, oh, oh, oh."
But, by the time you read this, I shall, hopefully, have embraced the jet of warm water that summons me back to the land of the hearing.
And my gratitude will be immense – it will figure at the top of my morning "reasons to be grateful" – list for at least a month.
