Envy: it's the bone-rotter. The joy-corroder. Buzzkill. I feel it pervade as I look at photos of impeccably adorned, whitewashed Pottery Barnesque mantles, slapdash art with a gazillion "likes," Instagram accounts of people who seem to have a bottomless financial resource which allows them to travel constantly. And finally the last straw – a photo of my friend with none other than Bruce Springsteen (OK, I am very happy for her ... but still jealous). And the envy festers and grows and I feed it with thoughts like: How do they have time to funnel their dish soap from unsightly plastic