You’re too happy.
I met an acquaintance for lunch. She’d texted me the afternoon before we had lunch to arrange where she suddenly wanted to go to lunch.
Nowhere convenient, I’ll tell ‘ya that.
However, I happily rearranged my schedule to accommodate her
whim preference, but that fact seemed to escape her notice as we sat there eating and talking.
Nope, she was on a rant about all that is wrong in the world; and she needed me to know that in her opinion I was too happy when discussing the wrongs in the world.
My equanimity seemed to bring out the demons in her.
She was perturbed with me because I wasn’t in the depths of despair over The Donald’s latest bull sh!t move of telling people to go to work when they’re sick.
[How stupid &/or senile is that man?]
Nor was I despondent enough over Elizabeth Warren, the competent presidential candidate who the news outlets marginalized, dropping out of the race.
[How sad is it that our country is so backward when it comes to electing leaders?]
Nor was I gnashing my teeth over the gloomy grayness that has been the subtext of our winter weather here.
[How soon will spring get here?]
Yep, she was peeved with me, but she’s what I’d call an Eeyore, a bit on the gloomy side. Always. Which means, of course, that my Pooh-like demeanor rankles her.
I do like her if only because she reminds me that someone else’s opinion of you need not define you. And that by talking with a variety of personality types you can, if you are open to it, learn a few things.
Like for instance, you can learn that the word ‘happy’ can have a negative connotation. Who knew, huh?