I began the day out of sorts. I walked around in a kind of funk all morning. My son came up with his own perception. He flatly commented on my “state” with his own diagnosis: “You are in a bad mood.” Thanks Dr. Freud. I had a host of things that required my attention, which I begrudgingly attended to one by one, all the while yearning to go back to bed. I kept telling myself that I could talk myself out of my blue mood. (I believe that most of us can pick our mood flavor of the day, just like we select a breakfast cereal or a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.)
All morning, I listened to the voices whispering in my ears. The angel kept saying, “You can choose happy.” The devil answered, “Go back to bed, pull the covers over your head and hide.”
Miraculously, the sun emerged and the temps warmed. Change was in the air. I could feel my spirits lifting. The angelic voice had won. Kind of scary that I hear voices, huh?