Humans, Time, and the Bliss Factor

You have to be careful if you write comedy for a living. Every now and then you almost say something in real life that might be funny but not entirely appropriate. Maturity is the ability to catch yourself before you say what you really mean.
Recently this woman was updating me on her new marriage. She said, “Yeah, it’s great. We’ve almost been married three months.” My response was, “Wow, some of them don’t even last that long.” The words had been converted into nerve impulses and already sent to the mouth when I issued an “Abort Launch” emergency code, and somehow pulled them back. It was that close. Certainly, I didn’t want to say anything mean about marriage at a sweet time such as this. Blissful feelings fade out fast enough on their own.
On other occasions, like walking down the street, your brain can fire off a one-liner that is actually helpful and instructive about some aspect of life.
Today, I had done my half hour of Leno jokes, and I was on my one-and-a half hour morning break, before my hour of radio jokes. Now, I could argue all week about how tough this is – how you need the extra time to refresh your head, and play guitar, but I doubt if you’d buy it. So I say goodbye to the wife. By the way, the marriage comment earlier had nothing to do with how it’s going with her. In fact, it’s always nice when she has the day off too – more of a cozy feeling. Anyway, I’m walking down the street in the beautiful fresh morning air, and suddenly I say to myself, “I don’t know how much longer I can keep this grind up.” And the ridiculous part is I meant it.
When I first landed the radio comedy gig, it was the best time of my working career. I no longer had to report anywhere, and follow orders, so everyday the minute I was done, I’d head out on a blissful walk. If I went by a movie theater, I’d go to the next movie that was playing. Of course, that had mixed results. One day I accidentally ended up at “The English Patient.' That'll kill anybody's bliss, but soon I was back out on the street again feeling the magic.
Ahh, the bliss factor. Why can’t we keep it alive? Why does it fade away?
Why can’t we be like that married woman really delighted with something, but have the mood last forever, like it should?
Humans adapt way too quickly. When astronauts go into space they’re thrilled with being weightless, but when they get home, they’re bodies have already started taking it for granted. Suddenly gravity feels like real work.
We get over good things way too fast, and even start to look back at the old differently. I now accept this as baseline reality. When I think of going someplace to work, wearing a certain type of clothes, arriving at a certain time, and not going home till another time, it just seems barbaric. You mean I have to do what you tell me to? What is this? The Middle Ages?
I don’t go on those blissful walks of excitement anymore about this job. I've got to work harder at appreciating everything. Tomorrow it begins: I'm cutting my morning break down to an hour-fifteen.