Yesterday I said I was happy. Today I'm just bloated.
Happiness often leads to bloating, don'tcha think?
Seriously though, how do you know if you're happy? Tonight we were watching Where the Wild Things Are and one of those scary monsters said that happiness isn't always the best path to happy.
Huh??? I don't get that? Do you?
If happiness ain't the best path then . . . oh, wait, I get it now. Sadness is the best path to happy. Am I right, or am I right? If you tweren't ever sad, you wouldn't recognize happy. And you definitely wouldn't appreciate happy.
You get me?
I'm pretty sure I'm happy because sometimes I forget I live in Utah. Sometimes I act like I'm still living in Laie. Like this morning. I was driving my two oldest kids to school when Lulu had a relapse and ate my son's socks. Right there in the car. (No, they weren't on his feet at the time.)
Did I swear? Uh uh. I simply ducked into Walmart so my son didn't have to go to school sockless.
(Okay that's not the part where I was acting like I live in Laie.)
As I was cruising the sock aisle SUDDENLY, out of nowhere, a thought occured to me. A thought about my . . . presentation, if you know what I mean. I had rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweat pants and one of my hub's XL t-shirts. Then I did the dishes and spilled water down the front of my shirt. Then I slipped on the first pair of shoes I could find and drove my kids to school.
They were my pretty shoes.
I didn't comb my hair or dress my face before leaving the house!!! But I wore my pretty shoes.
I had a bare nekked face! And bedheaded hair! (And pretty shoes!) But as Gad as my witness, my son will never go sockless again.
As I waited in line at the cash register (after my aha moment and before my credit card was denied) I realized that I wasn't proud of myself. But I wasn't ashamed of myself neither.
That's gotta be happiness, huh?
Post script: I happened to catch a glimpse of myself in the Walmart window on my way out and noticed I was still wearing my Filipino pearls from yesterday. This added a nice touch of elegance to my ensemble.
Least I got class, I thought.
For the record, my credit card was declined because it was expired. So I started digging through my purse to find the one that isn't expired because I slipped it in there after getting gas yesterday, which my hub should have done because, really, isn't getting gas a man's job? If my hub had gotten gas like he was supposed to my credit card wouldn't have been declined. So then I just grabbed my checkbook and started writing a check for $2. And then it hit me. I can pay cash for this purchase. So then I grabbed my wallet and pulled out my cash.
Do you think the cashier would have been as rude if I had dressed up my face, combed my hair and wrung my shirt out?
I guess she couldn't see my pretty shoes.