I have a funny quirk in that a small thing can make my day.
Hubby telling me that he likes how I did my hair will make me smile for hours.
A simple thing such as remembering my favorite flavor of ice-cream will make me grin.
The smallest gift or most absentminded compliment makes me happy.
It might be childish, but I don’t care. I would rather live each day reveling in little things than be miserable while waiting for something “big” enough to smile about. (Been there, done that, was really miserable.)
I’d rather squeal with excitement over a skein of wool yarn, or pause in the middle of the store to pet the fuzzy socks.
I’d rather stop in the middle of my work to coo over the tiny weed that Mr. Bubbles proudly shows off or to kiss his stuffed panda for the millionth time that morning.
I’d rather blush and beam because Hubby told me he loved me over the phone even though his co-workers are right there and will start teasing him the second he hangs up.
I’d rather laugh out loud at something I read and bounce with excitement every time I learn something new.
It doesn’t take a lot to make me happy, but what makes me happy happens a lot.