If You're Happy and You Know It

Yesterday, my boss came in to me and said, "We have the new Richard Russo." "The new, new Richard Russo. Or Bridge of Sighs in paperback." "The new, new one. It's still in pages. I emailed it to you." Joy, people! Absolute bliss! I printed it out and brought it to Cameron. "Here's the Rick Russo. Do you want it, or, umm, should I read it this weekend and then give it back you?" Wink, wink, nudge, nudge, flutter the eyelashes in a shameless ploy to get my way. "You can read it this weekend if you want." I literally clasped the pages to my bossom and danced away. Which, of course, earned me a big laugh, but was actually a spontaneous reaction to my happiness.

When I'm happy, you know it. I piroutte, shimmy, bounce while clapping my hands and giving "spirit fingers", or shake my butt like a dog. In fact, it probably looks kinda childish. I remember once coming back from a good day at the firing range with the cops, and skipping in the parking lot...in my uniform. My sargeant mentioned that skipping and a gun belt don't really go together. Maybe he was right considering I wasn't a cop for very much longer after that. My opinion on the matter, however, is that happiness is so fleeting. It comes when it comes, and I don't think there's anything wrong with celebrating it. So what it I look like I'm nine. So what if it's ridiculous or immature. I really don't care. I'm happy. So let me be happy. Lord knows, it'll pass.