Drop Dead Healthy by A. Jacobs (books to read to increase intelligence .TXT) 📕

But then I remembered that March and January both have an extra day, which makes up for February’s lack, so that calmed me down a bit.”

It’s an absurd exercise. But you know what? Also highly effective. Every time I’d start to stress out about my deadline, I’d remind myself that Bella was on the case. Bella agreed it was working for her, too.

It’s got all the upsides of worry but without the soul-sucking emotional toll. I can’t recommend the worry exchange enough. Julie asked if I was worried whether Bella was cheating and not worrying on my behalf. So I might have to get someone to worry about that.

The Hair of the Dog

There’s a law in New York that adults are forbidden to enter a playground unless they’re accompanied by a child. A grown man can’t just walk in by himself and loiter around the monkey bars.

Fortunately for me, there’s no such statute about dog parks. You don’t need a dog to hang out at dog parks. So I’ve been lurking around this dog run every day. It’s a couple of blocks from our apartment, is about half the size of a soccer field, and has at least several dogs chasing each other in circles, regardless of the weather. I’m hanging out there because petting dogs is healthy. Several studies show it lowers your blood pressure and stress levels.

I spot an elderly man, maybe in his midseventies, sitting on the bench, his Yankees cap tucked low, his caramel-colored Airedale terrier bouncing and sniffing at his feet. I approach.

“You mind if I pet him?” I ask.

The man shrugs.

“Who’s a good boy?” I say, scratching the dog’s head.

“His name’s Logan,” says the man.

“Hi, Logan!”

I smooth the fur on his back.

“You know, petting dogs is good for your heart,” I say. “Lowers our blood pressure.”

“Huh,” says the man. “I’ve had him for three years, and last year I had open-heart surgery and they put in five stents.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

I’m not sure what else to say, so I keep patting Logan’s back.

“So you’re saying I didn’t pet him enough?” he asks.

I look up. The man’s not smiling.

“Well, imagine if you hadn’t pet him at all. Maybe you would have had ten stents put in.”

“Hmm. Maybe.”

I couldn’t tell if the man is playfully sparring or unplayfully angry. Was he about to sic Logan on my throat? I felt it was time to move on.

The evidence is solid that pets are good for humans’ health. A study by the Mayo Medical Center found that dog owners had significantly lower cholesterol. A study by the Minnesota Stroke Institute said that people who owned cats were 30 percent less likely to suffer a heart attack (though 40 percent more likely engage in scrapbooking).

There are a lot of possible reasons: Touching lowers stress by raising levels of oxytocin. You’re more active if you have a pet, especially if you have to schlep outside every morning to walk the dog. You meet other pet owners, and form social ties, which are crucial to well-being. Plus there are the benefits of an emotional bond with the animal itself.

As with everything good, pet ownership has its downsides, of course. A 2009 paper published by the Centers for Disease Control warned that sleeping with pets can spread pneumonia, cat scratch fever, meningitis, chagas, and even the bubonic plague.

After the Logan fiasco, I tapered off my visits to the dog park. I can’t always be leeching off other people. My family needs its own pet. The problem is, Julie has allergies, so cats and dogs aren’t going to work.

Instead, we decide on a fur-free pet. I asked Jasper what he wanted: A chameleon, he said. He liked the whole idea of a pet that changed colors. It’s sort of like a slow-moving TV screen, I figure.

We ended up getting a beginner, not-quite-technically-a-chameleon chameleon. It’s called an anole lizard. It only has two colors in its palette: green and brown. Jasper named him Brownie, with Greenie as a seldom-used middle name.

Brownie doesn’t have a huge personality. He eats crickets and takes naps. There’s not going to be an Owen Wilson/Jennifer Aniston movie called Brownie and Me.

But I think it’s worth it. I love the look on Jasper’s face when Brownie scampers up his neck and into his hair. It’s a wonderful mix of joy, tenderness, and disgust. The Germans probably have a word for it, but I don’t know it.

A Relaxing Massage

I often find myself whistling the Monty Python song, “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life.”

It’s the tune sung by Eric Idle at the end of Life of Brian. He’s on a crucifix alongside twenty other accused criminals, and he warbles: “When you’re chewing on life’s gristle/Don’t grumble, give a whistle . . . Always Look on the Bright Side of Life.”

All the stress-busting books keep telling me essentially the same thing: Look on the bright side. “Reframe,” that’s the word they use. Yes, you’re on the slow line at the grocery. But think of all the times you’ve been on the fast line and never noticed it.

Reframing has its limits, and being subjected to the death penalty is one of them. But still, when you’re not being executed, it also has its uses.

I was in the airport going to Sioux Falls on a business trip. I walked through the metal detector with no beeps or flashing lights. But still, the beer-gutted, sideburned TSA guy said, “I need to check you.”

Ugh.

“Can you put your arms out?”

Annoyed, I refused to look him in the face. I was not going to give him that pleasure. I stared over his shoulder and pursed my lips. He patted me on the shoulders. Then the sides of my body.

I was a supernova of negative energy. But for what? Halfway through my pat-down, it occurred to me: I’m spending a lot of my brain’s bandwidth being annoyed. Is it so bad to have this guy touch me? Is he hurting me? He’s just doing