Yesterday I got good news. My next book has been accepted and will be out in the spring. So why wasn’t I jumping for joy, whooping and hollering, or weeping in relief? ‘Cuz I should’ve been. It’s puzzling since I’ve been waiting to hear for quite a long time and had just about given up hope. Then I got it. Skepticism. Maybe I’m not trusting that something so good can be happening to me. Really good news seems so rare. Did I forget how it feels to be excited?
This morning I regained my senses. I got it — again — after remembering just how contagious other people’s moods can be. All those negative attitudes — whining, complaining, and curmudgeonism — have rubbed off on me until I got used to ho-hum and hum-drum. I wonder if this happens to others. Could it be that there’s positive stuff happening in people’s lives that they don’t even recognize? Maybe the high spots that come along get ignored because brains get stuck in the “life is struggle” habit. You mean I could be creating my own stress? It’s almost as if I’m the one who’s keeping my own self from feeling good. Like I wasn’t allowing myself to be happy. What? 
Today I will buy champagne.