February
22, 2014
I
woke up this morning and diagnosed a very early case of happiness. This was
before the cat meowed incessantly; dogs stood and shook their winter-weighted
coats, collar tags jangled in alarm. Before I hit the frigid bathroom tiles and
cold toilet seat. Everyone has to eat prior to my cranking up the coffeemaker,
and enjoying my first cup of warmth. I can smell the pleasure of happy. Feel
the sensation trolling down my spine, though twinges of pain shoot along the
edges, remind me to apply essential oils to the skin. Shoveling can’t replace
Pilates.
How
did that rare, contagious disease hit so rapidly? Contentment is the norm
‘round here. Joy creeps-in on occasion. Maybe it has something to do with our
little local Seed Library opening today. We are expecting a mob at the
Riverview Branch, a crowd interested in building community through growing food
in our yards and saving seeds to spread the wealth for next year.
I
aim to spread this sickness to others today, all day, touching light switches,
faucets, doorknobs, shaking hands and kissing babies, so beware. If I am within
spitting distance, before the stroke of midnight, you will most likely catch
happiness.
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