Take some prog rock and call me in the morning

So okay, say you’re grumpy. So grumpy you could steam-clean the carpet with your eyes, but you won’t out of pure peevishness. So grumpy your skin turns green and your friends all call you The Incredible Sulk.

You’re grumping through the kitchen, making yourself a cup of (Nas) Tea (Mood), listening to “Firth of Fifth” againin the vain hope that it will cheer you up, when suddenly… it does. Not all the way, mind, but a little bit. Enough for a thought, like a ray of sunlight, to get through your...