And underneath her wimple, she has curlers in her hair! I even heard her singing in the Abbey

Today was a good day.

I prize my good days.


On my good days I forget that I ever had bad days. On my good days I feel smart and sexy and funny and I lope instead of just normal walking. On my good days I wear bright colours and my hair behaves itself. On my good days I am an energy machine at work and multi-task like a goddess. On my good days I sing along to sad songs and think poor things, and what a fuss they make about nothing.


On my good days I meet old friends for coffee and grin a lot and feel like an independant working woman. Usually, on my good days, I wind up with so many social engagements for the next two or three days that I'm swamped. Because on my good days the days are too short and I want to meet everyone, even old flatmates who I barely speak to anymore. And I want to do everything--get a tattoo, buy cargo pants (which I admit, regretfully, are too young for me). On my good days I am forgiving and a fountain of serenity and wisdom. I give good advice, I listen hard, I pat shoulders. But also on my good days, I trip over my sentences because I'm in such a hurry to tell the next story.


On my good days, I'm sleepy at a normal time, like now it's 10.30 and I'm ready for bed. My insomnia vanishes on my good days. I think only of pleasant things--like the fact that the new Harry Potter releases next month and that Boston Boy returns next month also. When I think of unpleasant things, like filing tax returns, which I should do, I'm all gung-ho about it. Because, (and stop me if I've said this) on my good days I vibrate with energy.


On my good days, I think in terms of tomorrow and the day after that. I think about the stories I have to hunt tomorrow and instead of thinking of the heat, I think of the thrill of fixing up an interview. Today was an exceptionally good day because when I stepped outside my office into the balcony for my post-lunch cigarette break, there was wind, the kind that smells of rain, and the trees were swishing and I raised my face up to the sky and saw the grey clouds and felt so glad to be alive.


I've had so many good days this month. Little joys are being handed out to me and I feel half-apprehensive as I accept them, because really, how long will they last? But that's not a good day thought, so I stifle it and wonder instead, if I'm going to have so many good days, what on earth shall I blog about? The Adventures Of Merry Sunshine may not make for very interesting reading, but I should also warn you, on my good days I blog a lot.