I didn't much care if I were immersing myself in a lie. Every now and then it's pleasant to be lied to and warmed: Most of the subjects I imbue with "truth" are quite fabulous as well, so why shouldn't I at least wring a little contentment out of this lie that doesn't pretend to be a truth?
I like feeling happy. I am tired of feeling sad.
Go ahead and lie to me.
Someone will be along shortly to disabuse the treacly and convinced. And in the meantime I can lay down the burden of a sharpened set of wits. Happy endings -- literally -- are getting the best of me lately. I am unlikely to lie down and spread my legs to those who sell me treacle (or terror either, for that matter), but when I'm doing the selling, well, that is increasingly OK with me.
Who said "dotage" was a bad thing?