When Adele releases a new album, the experience is both glorious and crippling. The barren winter of our collective psyche retreats, giving way to songbird Spring. Our audio appetite increases, freed at last from sonic permafrost. We awake; post-hibernation ravenous. With tissues at the ready and hearts braced against the impending flash flood, we binge Adele. Music-drunk from the melodious Muscat, we slip shamelessly into harmonious stupor.

The divisive walls of race, religion and fav. #Kardashian crumble violently as we offer our cyber shoulders to one another via Twitter. This is true harmony. And in Congress, our elected officials wage war over an issue of basic human rights. Hey, you can't win them all. #Adele25. Humanity (almost) united. With tear soaked cheeks cast downward in holy reflection, we whisper-scream "Yasss Queen!" In heaven, we listen to Adele.

We. Literally. Can't. Even. A lot. Somewhere, a Heather's head silently explodes.

Back in reality employees are expected to arrive punctually and perform, with thoughtful focus, their job-related duties. Another normal day. Except during an otherwise routine morning shower, Adele launched a vocal throat punch attack to your feelings. And she won. It. Was. Awesome. Who can even see the world given the constant saline drip from their eye plumbing, let alone focus?

A quick scan of iTunes album reviews offers some much needed perspective. One user reports that 25 left him "vanquished." SHE IS VANQUISHING PEOPLE NOW! What new brand of witchcraft is this? Suddenly, the shower-time air strikes seem almost polite in comparison. It is not known exactly what the reviewer endured, but it is safe to assume that one can not work productively following an Adele vanquish.

"Hello? How are you?" Dead. I'm officially dead. I have died like, four times but Adele keeps giving me life! It is terrifying and wonderful. She slays. She revives. She repeats. YASSS QUEEN! Adele, Goodwill Ambassador to our Souls, releases new material far too infrequently for this to not qualify as a mental health day at the very least. How can one whole-heartedly engage in the collective spiritual purge when expected to return phone call, check emails and give presentations? Even Beyoncé takes the day off. It's all too much.

The world we live in is a scary place. One can hardly turn on the television without risking visual assault by very real, horrible images that threaten civilization. ISIS. Global Warming. Donald Trump's "hair." Kylie Jenner. When Adele graces us mere mortals with new music, the fears and anxieties of the world subside. We understand the human condition. We are the human condition. For a brief instant, we forget the great debates that fracture: Gun Control, Abortion Rights, Man Buns; as we exorcise our doubts, frustrations and bitterness with utter abandon. We need to spend the day embracing our online friends, family and stalkers in an ugly-crying, ex-forgiving, ice cream-fueled social media group hug. From the sanctuary-prison of our own couches.

Please sign this petition in support of a "National Day of Adele," applicable to all future album release dates. The greater good requires it.

I leave you now with a quote from Gandhi. "There is no way to Adele. Adele is the way."