Everyone, including and especially me, is happier when I am happy—even if I’m only pretending to be happy. Hey, it’s contagious, and I am not immune.
We’re all clear on Dad’s head honchoship, but life also proves the truth of that eloquent old adage: If Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy. (Confirmed here, and stated in the positive here.)
Is it OK to be sad sometimes? You betcha. But it is not OK to wallow, to daily don grouchiness, or to snarf ten chocolate cupcakes in a fit of self-pity.* I’ve searched for happiness in the bottom of a pan of turtle brownies often enough to know that it’s just not there.
The Apostle didn’t leave any loopholes. Besides, so numerous are the joys that I, all undeserving, have been granted, that I’m frankly embarrassed to think that there are days when thundershowers dominate the Doppler.
*Notice that nothing has been said about snarfing five or fewer chocolate cupcakes.