I hate the title of this post. It reminds me of the NY Times Sunday crossword when they put a question mark next to a clue, as if the puzzle master doesn’t know the answer to the clue he’s written.(I say he because I know the puzzle master at the NY Times is in fact, a he. I wouldn’t generalize that way). I mean come on, if you wrote the puzzle, please come up with a reasonable clue.
Anyway, I’ve decided it’s ok to be cranky. Sometimes. Well, at least today. I spend so much of my time obsessed with being happy that I forget to be myself; and in the constant search for happiness, it remains elusive. Within reason, I will allow myself to just feel–to just be–less than perfect. I know there is no particular reason for me to be cranky. I have a warm home, a sweet little family, a job I love, and access to most everything. When I’m hungry, I eat; and not just whatever, but whatever I feel like eating. When I’m sad, I have friends to call and a husband to hug. When I’m tired, a fluffy bed to fall into.
But things and comforts don’t always equal happy. They probably shouldn’t. SO many things equal happy, and most of all, I think, it’s just a decision. Sometimes I make the right decision, and sometimes I don’t. For now, I’ll be sitting here, drinking my coffee with a scowl.