A gloom can descend on Itchy Ankle at this time of year, when we don’t quite believe spring is coming, and we are still paying off the bills we ran up over Christmas. Dirty impacted snow lines the roads, the gardens are still bare, and we must complete our taxes. We have segue-wayed from New Year abstinence into the strictures of Lent. It is not a lot of fun.
We are cheering each other up by embarking on the 100 happy days project which invites you to take a photo of something that makes you happy every day for, well, one hundred and take a moment to notice how good it makes you feel. You can keep the photos and the thoughts to yourself, or post them on Facebook or Twitter. It’s up to you.
I learned about the project from my friend Fiona in the UK, who is posting her happy on Facebook. Fiona is both creative and strong-willed and so, by day 3, she was liberally interpreting the rules and had moved on from photos. She posted a poem that made her happy. My kind of woman.
In Itchy Ankle we started on Tuesday. Easy. I tweeted a picture of one of our magnificent sunsets.
On Wednesday, after a happy interlude in the company of my friend Matt (always worth photographing), I managed to mislay my iphone. Unfortunately, it is the only way I have of taking photos. It seemed like my project was shot. On Thursday, I noticed the sun on my face as I drove to a conference. I didn’t have the phone. On Thursday evening I enjoyed dinner with 10 of the people from the coaching program I completed 6 years ago. I was wearing a new light wool scarf in beautiful shades of mint green, kingfisher blue and sunset red/gold. Fab scarf, great people, good times. No phone. On Friday, I had great fun in an improv session where it might have been a mistake to take pictures…
Reflecting on all of this last night, I considered that despite all the highs of the last few days, the most happy-making thing of all might have been the absence of the phone. No emails, no texts, no anxiety-inducing phone calls. The phone isn’t mine though. It belongs to my employer and is not the first one I have lost. Worry began to nibble.
Last night, I had a Facebook message from the restaurant where the phone was found. (This is why it pays to follow the places you frequent on social media.) Peace of mind is restored and I have 95 happy days to go.
You can read Fiona’s happy poem—Binker by A. A. Milne–here.