Bliss!

Bliss!
Have I won the lottery? Have I won an Oscar, or the Nobel prize?
No. I attribute my euphoria to something simpler: a visit to the chiropodist. For weeks now I have suffered from agonising corns. It was like walking in shoes full of broken glass. Although I see a National Health chiropodist at regular intervals, they will only see you when it suits them. Pain won't get you an appointment; they only do preventative medicine. A professional chiropodist will do a better job, but until my pension came in I couldn't afford one.
Tuesday my financial boat finally came in, and I experienced the joy of having the tough, painful, callused skin chipped away by a skilled lady. Six painful corns, spread over both feet, were removed. I can now stroll about to my heart's content without having to endure purgatory with each step.
Like I said: bliss.