There's nothing like the practical to cure moodiness. Everyone has those days when their nasty internal critics catch up with them, chanting poisonous little lies and half-truths. It's a dirty collection of "always" and "nevers", buzzing like gnats at your ears. Not pretty enough. Too lazy. Not smart enough. Too loud. Coward. Hypocrite. No one really likes you. You'll never be good enough. Like bugs on hot days, there's always at least one or two to swat away, but when they come in swarms it can be paralyzing. During a two-hour afternoon nap last week I was surrounded by a cloud of them, the annoying buzz rising to piercing shrieks. The dense darkness pressed down as I laid on the couch and watched the clock tick, becoming slowly more convinced that three hundred orphans and a baby kitten would die horrible deaths if I continued to be so incompetent. And if I can't get anything right, if I can't even keep my own kitchen clean, why...