It's happening again.

Being Aunt Aggie is a very trying job, I should think. I mean, cliched notions of emotional stress aside, one wonders what happens to a person when he hears about the joys and sorrows about everyone else.

For me?

I've come to realize how empty my life is. Sometimes Aunt Aggie wishes she had more problems herself so she wouldn't be sitting at home reading about everyone's problems.

She asks what is wrong. If I can empathise with these people how is it that I don't go through all these life-enriching trials and tribulations that they ungratefully bemoan about?

And then she realizes that empathy is only useful for living life vicariously.