I know that the melancholy which afflicts me is completely irrational. I have much to be grateful for. I have a wife who loves me, and I love her. I have a roof over my head, and sound employment. I can afford the cost of living. I have no debts. Life, by all accounts, is good. Yet these heavy blues weigh down on me, bringing misery and flowing tears. I cannot justify them at all, but for the absence of sunlight in midwinter and the weariness seeded by the short days and long nights. There’s no reason for me to feel so blue. It’s just a tragedy that I do.