Comfort me with mashed potatoes

I have trouble with perspective.  When everything is good, it's all gravy, but when it's bad, I can't seem to bring myself to believe life will be good again.

It's pretty bad right now.  Without getting too deep in the depressing details of my existence, I've reached the point where all the promise of my youth has been wasted or spent, I'm just surviving not really living, and I'm feeling thoroughly unloved (blah, blah, BLAH).  I am trying - desperately - to pull myself out of this funk.

Mashed potatoes.  The ultimate comfort food (for me).  Endlessly modifiable and yet always the same.  Me?  I like them with butter, sour cream, milk, chives, and salt.  You can't be unhappy with a belly full of that.  The wine helps too.

Can I get an amen?