It’s rare that we get good ecological news. Usually it’s that species are becoming extinct. And if it is good news at the beginning, it’s bad by the end when they start talking about shooting the recently unendangered grizzly or drilling in a pristine wilderness area they’ve just found. So it is with delight (and a bit of trepidation) that I share this story with you: Lost World of New Species Found in Jungle.

Luckily, it’s not the furnace.

Unluckily, it is the hot water heater.

Worse, I’m overdue for a shower.

I am disheartened to report that my iPod, faithful travel companion as I’ve jaunted around the country and across England, gave me a sad Mac of death today.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Mac products, when one of their products goes belly-up, it mourns along with you by showing a sad Mac. (Mac products that started up properly once gave you a happy Mac face, although Rudi tells me that they no longer do.)

Rudi bought me my iPod just after I got hired at my current job as a congratulations gift. I was not as faithful a user as he was of his, but I enjoyed having it and being able to listen to music on planes and at work and when out soaking up the sun at the park (as well as when Rudi puts on his video games).

But, alas, the hard drive has died and it would cost nearly as much to replace it as to buy a new iPod with more storage space on it. So I will shell out a couple bucks over the next few weeks and track down a new, replacement iPod. I like having music, and my travel schedule alone would make it a worthwhile investment even if I didn’t use it around town.

I think it was my college roommate, Eri, who came up with the Flintstone philosophy.

Our friend Rebs and I proved a bit more melancholy than she would have preferred (frankly, we were more melancholy than we would have preferred, too), so instead of advice, she dispensed Flintstone vitamins. If she couldn’t replenish our souls, at least she could keep our vitamin levels up.

At some point, a hierarchy developed. Purple was the best color. Orange, the worst. Dino, the best character. The car — who makes a car a character? — was the worst.

So if you ended up with an orange car vitamin, clearly you were excused for the day from responsibility for poor paper grades, oily peanut butter in the dining hall, and dropping your toothbrush on the floor.

A purple Dino, however? You were guaranteed sunshine, a full mailbox, and glowing comments from your favorite professor.

All the rest of the vitamins were somewhere in between, giving you a run-of-the-mill day.

Luckily, the Flintstone vitamin makers have discontinued the car-shaped vitamin. They clearly agreed that no one deserved to drop their toothbrush on the floor.

I’m not sure if Eri has decided on a new bottom-of-the-barrel vitamin, and I don’t ask, just in case she has. I don’t want to know.

But I keep in mind that purple Dinos will bring me luck, prosperity, and beauty when I happen upon them.

Why am I sharing this today? you ask.

Because today is a purple Dino day. On a Monday no less.

And, somehow, it is, actually. Instead of being cloudy and chilly today, the way the forecasters predicted, it dawned clear and sunny and warm. Our dripping faucet is being replaced today. I remembered to wash the floor, clear the counters, and empty the trash before I left home. I liked the first outfit I put on. The homemade breakfast pudding I didn’t care for warm yesterday is quite good cold with cinnamon today. I’m enjoying the book I’m reading. My iPod battery is still fully charged. There is money in my purse and Sweet Tart hearts in my candy dish.

Sure, some of those things would still have happened if a red Pebbles had fallen into my outstretched hand this morning.

But some of them probably wouldn’t have. And maybe I wouldn’t have been looking for them, allowing them to fade into the pleasant oblivion of the background unnoticed and unappreciated.

So, thanks, purple Dino, for handing me a nice day and making me truly see it.

This morning is the first morning since I got home when I haven’t had the need to go back to sleep after getting up.

I mean, sure, if I hadn’t had to go to work, would I have curled up with a cat or two for another forty winks? Quite possibly.

But I didn’t fall back asleep despite my best intentions.

I got up, ate breakfast, washed a load of dishes. You know, productive things.

This may not seem like something worth noting, but it really is.

Today I took a sick day.

I was pretty sure yesterday that I would need to, as I woke up feeling under the weather in San Antonio and still had five hours in the booth plus two flights to get through before I could tumble into bed. I mean, ibuprofen is good — but not that good.

But this morning, I thought, I might be able to go in. Let me call in late and see how I feel when I wake up the second time.

When I woke up mid-morning, I felt a little better. Not 100 percent, but 75 or 80. I got dressed. Brushed my hair. Packed my bag.

And yet I just couldn’t get myself out the door. The mind was willing, but the feet refused to comply.

So I returned to my original plan and called in sick.

And it’s a good thing, too.

Because I’m pretty sure my office manager would have had something to say about the hour-long nap I took mid-afternoon.

But I’m feeling a lot better and have spent the later part of the afternoon listening to podcasts, curling up with cats, and knitting. Nothing taxing, but that’s the whole point of a sick day.

Yes, I’m sorry I missed getting out on such a nice winter day. And, yes, there were things at the office I would have liked to have gotten done. But better to give the body the time it demands to recuperate than to push it along and have it rebel later on.