The depression came washing back in like the returning tide.  For a moment, just a moment, I had felt so free.  But it always ended like this.
    "Come now.  Just lie down here and relax.  You can talk to me about it, if you like."
    I sighed, lay down on the couch, and looked up at Sigmund's kind face.  I had the fugitive urge to punch it, as if this were his fault, as if breaking his nose would somehow make the despair go away.  But Sigmund was always the one who came to help, always on a moment's notice, always.
    "Mind if I smoke?" he asked, pulling out his pipe.
    "Feel free," I said.
    Sigmund lit his pipe.
    "You know that it is within your power to solve this situation," he puffed.
    "Don't you think I'm trying?  Why do you think I call you so often?"
    Sigmund shook his head slowly up and down.  "Well, hmm, yes, I suppose so.  But don't you notice a certain, uh, pattern of futility in your behavior?"
    "Yes, when I pay your bills!  Why do you have to charge so much, by the way?"
    "It's not just me, you know," said Sigmund.  "It's the market.  Anyway, if you don't pay, it doesn't get fixed!  But you're getting off the subject."
    He laughed as he always did at his favorite joke.  And he was right.  I was evading the issue.
    "You know, I thought this time was going to be different.  What am I doing wrong?"
    "Let's try an example," said Sigmund.  "Let's say you take a walk through the park every evening.  One day, a couple of guys jump out of the bushes, beat you up, and take all your money.  What do you do?"
    "Call the police, I suppose."
    "Ok," Sigmund continued, "but do you keep on walking through the park?"
    "Probably not the next day," I said.  "But, yes, I suppose so.  I would consider that a piece of bad luck, but not something that would make me change my habits."
    "But what if the next time, the same guys jumped out of the same bushes and mugged you again?"
    "Well, I guess I would either change my route or stop walking in the park altogether."
    "Exactly," said Sigmund. "I'll be perfectly happy to keep taking your money as long as you like, but you need to stop this pattern of self-destructive behavior.  At least, try a different way."
    "That's all well and good, Sigmund," I protested, "but there's one thing I just don't understand.  How can the damn thing still be working?  I really thought I had it this time.  I jammed it in good.  I flushed over and over.  I flushed hard!  All that water!  And all I get is a clogged commode!"
    "Look, I'm just your plumber.  You'll have to ask someone who knows more about pagers.  All I can do is pry it out."