When the new issue of The Economist arrives by mail, I take the old issue to Zoran Radojčić, whose house is just behind the town wall towering above my house. This is what I did this afternoon. When I returned home, I lay down for a snooze. I dreamt that I saw a couple of back issues of The Economist under some papers strewn on my dining table. “Shucks,” I growled, “I should have taken these to Zoran this afternoon!” When I woke up, I was happy this was a dream. As so many have noticed before me, how little one needs for happiness. And how little one needs to start growling, I hasten to add.