Norman Balmoral: The best feeling in the world

Norman felt woozy from the time warp that landed him in a 2011 feel-good self-introspection psycho-therapeutic workshop for Depression-era O.C.D. architectologistics. He tried to understand where he’d landed but something about the street's steep angles outside told him it was San Franweirdocisco.

Mind you, Norman told himself, he suffered no fools gladly and this city as he always knew from the ‘30s had its fair share. A lot less than pretty much everywhere else, he had to admit – only smart people lived on the penile peninsula, he knew. After all, weren’t they the gadflys who’d built that fabulous orange-red bridge over the water between the rocky brown mountains? Even if most of them got all wet over their own gender, they were smart, smart, smart. But they were still fools, Norman Balmoral swallowed.

“All right, class,” the teacher at the 6:30 p.m. Tuesday evening therapy group session on 18th Street just west of Collingwood Street (didn’t he and Agnes have a neighbor on Spruce Street by that name? Some insufferable woman?). “Today’s assignment is to list me the top ten best feelings in the world. For you and for no one else! Then we’ll discuss and debate.”

Norman thought real hard. He pursed his lips and put his pen to paper. Lovely pen, they’d given him. They’d never had such good ones in the ‘30s. Even his architect’s pens were nothing compared to these new-fangled contraptions. Off to his list, then.

1. Being inside Agnes.
2. Running from the Art Museum to Penn’s Landing on a cool June morning.
3. Smelling his own body odor after a hardy day's work outside.
4. Eating Mother’s dinner.
5. Going to a 76ers game with his own little Harold.
6. Peace and quiet in his architect’s studio.
7. Playing draedels with his own little Grace.
8. Pissing off Agnes’s uncle, a.k.a. Father Doherty (what a fanatic).
9. Pissing off Mother Limerick (Siobhan, that is).
10. Being inside Agnes (that one bears repeating).

The therapist took a look at all their lists. Her glasses fell down her nose and she looked at Norman. “Back to the 30s you go, Mr. Mister.” Norman felt the swoosh, swoosh, swoosh and found himself back at Balmoral’s pharmacy in the accounting office. Agnes knocked on the door and entered. At least, he’d experience #1 and #10 right now.