Oh, I know. You're thinking "here we go, another catalogue of ill-timed poop and vomit." But no.
Today: unexpected euphoria.
I am late at work because we spent too long dancing this morning.
Vigorous flailing, arm-waving, hip circling, ska-jumping. All of us, including, for a few minutes, be-suited and ready for work Husband (which, given that we were dancing to 1990s Russian techno in our living room without any lights on, gave the whole the feel of a nightclub attended by the Russian mafia and their offspring).