If the Germans weren’t so busy with their own problems, I’d ask them to come up with a word for that feeling you get when the screw-up cousin you’ve always looked down on suddenly lands a great job, a house and a runway-model spouse while you’re left eating ravioli out of a can in a basement apartment. It’s some combination of jealousy, disorientation and sheepishness. How did the smug high ground collapse into Chef Boyardee?
