Good news! My book is scheduled to hit the stores in just a couple of months — assuming, of course, that I can find someone to publish it. But pshaw! I'm not worried. This is the book the world's been waiting for; I know for sure, because I checked and there are fourteen just like it on The New York Times Bestseller List right now.

You know the ones I'm talking about. They have titles like Of Course Your Mother Can Move In With Us and Ten Other Ways Women Wimp Out, or How to Build Self-Esteem and a Greenhouse Extension, and my personal favorite, Get A Life! A Twelve-Step Plan for Ending Dependence on All Self-Help Books.

Generally speaking, these psychological tomes are authored by individuals who regularly interact with people in deep pain — like psychiatrists, members of the clergy, and professional lip-waxers. Based on the real-life, "washout-to-winner" experiences of their clients, the books are intended to guide, inspire, and instruct, and, of course, make a bundle. Since I share these high-minded objectives, I too decided to write a self-help book.

The book is full of big words like "quotidian," so you know you're getting your $24.95's worth.

Now I know what you're thinking. You're thinking: What makes her think she can write a self-help book? Well, to tell you the truth, I didn't think so, until about a year ago when I read an eye-opening bestseller called Self-Empowerment: You Can Do Whatever You Feel Like Doing, and There's Not a Thing Anybody Can Do About It.

Ironic, huh?

Anyway, my book — called Sneezing on the Challah and Other Things People Do to Mess Up Your Day — is a little different from other works enjoying popularity right now, and not just because it's written by someone totally without credentials or experience in the mental health field. In riveting question-and-answer format, and based on actual letters from actual people around the country, the book attempts to help people deal with the quotidian annoyances of life (the book, by the way, is full of big words like "quotidian," so you know you're getting your $24.95's worth), imparting recipes for mentally and emotionally healthful living along the way. The title dilemma, if you will, offers a pretty fair sampling of the sort of fascinating situations the book tackles. An excerpt follows:

Dear Dr. Friedman,

(I know, I know — I don't have a medical degree, but I do have a poetic license) so . . .

Dear Dr. Friedman,

Last Friday I stopped off at the local bakery to buy my challah for Shabbos. I waited on line for about fifteen minutes before it was my turn to be served. Imagine my dismay when in the process of bagging my challos, the saleswoman sneezed all over them. Then, with nary a murmur of apology or a blush of embarrassment, she proceeded to hand me the bag and ask for her money.

I paid without saying a word and stormed out of the store. But I can't get the incident out of my mind. Am I right to be so horrified at such a blatant display of rude and thoughtless behavior?

In Bed With the Flu

Dear In Bed With the Flu,

You certainly are! The behavior you described is not only totally outrageous, it is indicative, in my opinion, of the ever-escalating breakdown in good manners and common decency our society once took for granted. Imagine not even saying "gezuntheit" when someone sneezes! A person can't get much lower than that.

The good news, of course, is that you obviously feel guilty about what you did. But guilt is a largely profitless emotion unless it propels one to action. So march yourself back to the bakery, cut right to the front of the line, and apologize to the woman! (Going to the back of the line at this point would be pretty profitless, too, so while you're apologizing be sure to pick up a loaf of rye and a pound of cheese rugelach.)

Advance reviews of my book are already pouring in. A few examples:

"A profound look at the vagaries of humankind by an astute observer of the psycho-social landscape and a not-half-bad judge of prime rib."

Harold Fenster, Dr. Friedman's butcher,
Glatt Stop, Inc.

"Even ven she vas little, I knew she'd write a book or something someday. I just hope she mentioned her Cousin Susie, who maybe didn't write a book but did marry a dentist."

Aunt Edna

"It's a pretty good book, but it doesn't have pictures."

Devorah Friedman, age 5

A few more excerpts from the book should help explain what all the fuss is about.

Dear Dr. Friedman,

My next-door neighbor made an engagement party last week and did not invite me. She did, however, borrow a number of salad bowls and cake platters for the party. She even had the audacity to use one of my dishes in the "break a plate" mazel tov ceremony! I'm feeling hurt and insulted. Should I say something to her?

Something Borrowed, Now I'm Blue

Dear Something Borrowed,

I think you're being a little oversensitive. People have many obligations these days, and it's not always possible to invite everybody to a simchah. Frankly, I'm a little surprised that you don't understand this concept; my mother had no trouble at all grasping it when I made my son's bar mitzvah last year.

Dear Dr. Friedman,

Do you have a really good recipe for kasha varnishkes?
In Search of a Really Good Recipe
for Kasha Varnishkes

(Oops! Sorry! That's an excerpt from my next book, now in progress, called The Culture and Cuisine of Borough Park. I was going to call the book Recipes From My Mother, but for some reason she doesn't want to give me any.)

Dear Dr. Friedman, Help! I'm desperate! If I get one more call from a telemarketer, survey taker, or computer-generated voice that actually has the chutzpah to ask that you stay on the line while a representative finishes eating lunch, I think I'll just plotz! It's gotten so bad that I just never answer the phone anymore. Can you recommend a more practical response to this incredibly irritating phenomenon?

Telephone Ding-A-Ling

Dear Ding,

Don't I wish. Unsolicited telephonic intrusion (or, as it's come to be known, UTI) has, alas, become a normal part of modern life. And oh, the sorrow it brings.

Take the case of my good friend Sholom Mazel. A former Wall Street hotshot, Sholom fell on very hard times. I mean we're talking penniless here. Well, last month Sholom got a call from a computer at the gas company asking that he stay on the line to hear an important message regarding his bill. So Sholom held on . . . and on . . . and on.

Four and a half hours later, a representative informed him that if he did not pay his bill within twelve hours, his gas would be shut off. In a state of deep depression, Sholom retrieved the calls his answering machine had picked up while he was hanging on for the gas rep. The very first message was from his broker, saying that unless he answered the phone immediately, he would miss out on a once-in-a-lifetime multimillion-dollar deal absolutely guaranteed to end his financial woes.

It's not possible to invite everybody to a simchah. My mother had no trouble grasping this concept when I made my son's bar mitzvah last year.

It was when he was huddled over a blazing fire in the middle of his living room that night that Sholom conceived of "Citizens Against UTI" — a movement aimed at eradicating unbidden telephone contact forever. Membership is still a bit low at this point, but Sholom is confident that the nationwide phone campaign he has launched to drum up support will greatly boost the numbers.

I could go on and on about my book's potential to virtually turn lives around, lifting readers to unimagined heights of self-awareness; but clearly these excerpts speak for themselves. And what they say, in case you're not getting the message, is that when my book comes out, I will be available to do lectures, book signings, and nationally syndicated radio talk-show programs that heap much wealth and fame on talented and otherwise deserving hosts.

Or I could meet you for lunch.

Chanie Friedman is the Managing Editor of Agudath Israel's Coalition magazine.