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Money Can’t Buy Happiness
Good Sunday morning to all y’all, even though it’ll be Wednesday by the time this hits the stands. If I’ve learned anything in the past two weeks, it’s my good day might not be a good day for someone else. As we basked in the sunshine on the Fourth of July, I couldn’t help but think of LOML’s family suffering the loss of a dear family member the night before. Later, on the 4th, I had another (number 12 but who’s counting?) brain MRI. BTW, my brain is still where it’s supposed to be. While I was waiting for my turn in the “magical imaging tunnel”, I looked around the reception area and it really hit me “I was likely the most fortunate person sitting here”. Being in the care of a radiation oncologist wouldn’t be anyone’s idea of a good place, but it’s the number I drew. After that MRI, I was put into a “watchful waiting” pattern with the radiation oncologist and his staff at the Odette Centre. I’m okay with “watchful waiting”. During the clinical follow-up to the MRI I had a very good discussion with the doctor and the clinic nurse about what “watchful waiting” meant and what the next steps would/could be. On a scale of “I felt great after the appointments” to “I’m not happy at all” I felt it was fine to say I’m tired but I’m okay with the outcome. LOML invented the Scale of Emotions for me to use after my Sunnybrook/ Odette appointments.
But hey, it’s still July! The weather isn’t terrible. The sun keeps shining. The rain shows up once-in-a-while.The tourists keep touring. The shoppers keep shopping. The locals keep tolerating. The whole County keeps doing what it does best—and that’s SUMMER. Before we know it we’ll be flipping the calendar to September and wondering what the heck happened to “the lazy, hazy days”. If you know me, and most of you really and truly don’t, I love all of the seasons. I especially love whichever season we happen to be experiencing. This summer while I’m giving the tourists all the space they need, I’m re-reading a Gretchen Rubin book that was published in 2009, The Happiness Project. When I write my composition “What I Did During My Summer Vacation” it will be about my attempt to re-up my happiness quotient. Don’t get me wrong, I am a fairly happy person, most of the time, but I just think I could be happier. For instance, like a lot of all y’all, I’m not really happy about Main Street in Picton being reconstructed during the good old summer time. And I’m not really happy about the D-I being along the street we’ve called home since 1986. And, I’m not entirely happy with an endless line of RVs, transport trucks, motorcycles, vehicles with trailers in addition to the usual traffic using the detour. I suppose I should be happy because road and sewer work needs to be done and it is being done. To that end, so what if the traffic noise is often so loud a person can’t hear herself grouse about the squirrels that ate most of her tomato plants? And so what if our porches are coated with a fine layer of road dust and grime? And so what if a couple of old farts, like LOML and me, can’t have a decent conversation between eight in the morning and whenever downtown closes because of the detoured traffic noise? Gretchen Rubin is telling me to find the happiness in a process. I vow to be very happy when the construction process is over sometime in the next year, but I think she meant to be happy in the present. And then?
Well, and then here I am, working on a happiness project of my own. In the “July” section of her book Rubin suggests a person could actually buy some happiness. Imagine that? My generation was raised to believe “money can’t buy happiness” but Gretchen Rubin begs to differ. I’m not opposed to spending money but, like Rubin, I’m an “under-spender”. I’m the kind of person who, when a great deal is found, will leave the deal on the shelf (or in the cart) and think about why, or if, I need that particular great deal. I overthink my spending, always. I was the kid who saved her allowance for a trip to the CNE and managed to have change left over after a day of rides, Orange Julius, a Red Hot and a bag of little wee donuts. Right after the CNE, I’d start saving for family Christmas presents. But, Rubin found happiness in the purchase of four ballpoint pens. I’ve got oodles of pens, so if not pens I’m not sure what my purchase for happiness will be. I’ll probably overthink it the happiness purchase then buy something sensible, like new undies. Yeah, that’s the ticket. No more watchful waiting for my fine delicates to disintegrate in the wash.
I shall press “go to checkout” on the WonderUnders. I’m happy already.
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