A prayer has been half answered, I suppose. Next year, I will be doing what humans have been doing since the dawn of time. I will trade some things for other things and be happy. I will laze in bed on Sunday mornings with my baby, reading the New York Times listening to the smooth crooning of The Genius. I will stuff my money under a proverbial mattress someday, and someday trade it all again for a rock to call my own.
Just not in the Superdome.