Thursday, January 7, 2010

One lump or two.

Tulips on my desk. Skid mark-free towels. Tennis. A happy child.

Time has clearly beaten me down to reveal a simple person, or a simpleton, because it doesn't take much to make me happy. I was actually going to add "the sun on my face" to the above list, but true as that is – it sounded absolutely moronic and out of character.

Have my standards sagged so low that the sun on my face actually makes me happy? Am I John fucking Denver? And if so, why do I live in a shithole of a place that is cloudy 93.7 percent of the time?

This morning, after waving goodbye to the bus hauling the little bastard, it dawned on me – while he was off merrily stopping pucks with his team, I had four entire days to myself. By "myself" I mean the self that I was before I became Mommy. Or lately, Moooooom, with eyes that roll up so far into their sockets he looks like Chuckie.

But I hate that self. That self was selfish and had sex and a career and pelvic bones and nice clothes. I think I am actually afraid of that self because we have grown so far apart. I no longer recognize the bitch. Was she happy? What did she do all day? What would we talk about over Long Island iced tea?

So, for four days, my self and I can do anything we bloody well want – within of course the constrains of time, finances, the fact that I have no pants that currently fit, and two dogs who follow me around like I was Jim Jones. But what do we want?

I read about a book called The Happiness Project, so I Googled it and started reading the author's book blog. Gretchen Rubin is happy all right – she's got an investment banker husband and a book on the NY Times Bestseller's list. She's skinny, likely frigid despite kids – and is, in my opinion – boring as shit. Give me volatile and tempestuous over that sugary bestselling crap, any day. Happiness is overrated.

Since I have time, I ask: are most happy people boring, or just annoying? Or medicated? Are outwardly happy people really miserable pricks when no one is around? Is happiness just an act? Most of the happy, nice people I've met, for the most part, aren't very funny. And funny is right up there with ambitious, naughty, and big feet when I describe the perfect man. Which brings me to ask – would you rather be stuck on a deserted, all-inclusive island with a nice, happy person, or a dark, funny person?

Maritime Travel's Vacation Superstore is coming up, January 16th and 17th at the WTCC in Halifax. Billed as the "two hottest days of winter" you can pick up really great deals to relatively deserted islands dotted with Speedo-clad Germans cranked up on happiness – thanks to bottomless Piña Coladas and Vitamin D.

I admit to being outwardly miserable most of the time, so when happiness goes fleeting by, I grab it by the balls. And like most things you passionately grab by the balls – in the light of day – they're usually not all they're cracked up to be.

Kind of like being alone for four days.

Oh! Self! Look at the time... it's Happy Hour!

Get two bucks off admission to the Vacation Superstore at