OK, so after seeing my Facebook timeline full of people sharing pictures celebrating their #100Happydays, the theory being that if you find one happy thing a day to celebrate you will become a happier person in general, the Mrs and my good self started chatting. I ventured that she should have a go at it, after all, she was the archetypical pessimist, Mrs Glass Half Empty, always has been. She laughed and said she would be more likely to succeed in 100 unhappy days and so it begun. I insisted she did things the traditional way. Leaving me, Mr Half Full, the challenge of the unhappy days.
This will be a piece of piss I thought, even with my happy temperament I could find something every day that would piss me off. After all, once you become a forty-something, Grumpy Old Men stops becoming a TV programme and starts becoming just you and your mates. People selfishly parking, not letting you out of side roads, not saying thank you when you let them out of self same side roads. Just the driving unhappiness could fill the first 40 days.
But where’s the challenge in that?
The happy, smart arse me insisted that it couldn’t be 100 days full of hate and recrimination. I still wanted to come out the other side not wanting to kill the world. Mr Happy normally keeps Mr Angry in check with a little help from Messrs Smirnoff and Daniels and a (un)healthy dose of sarcasm, and with any luck I could apply the same set of principles to getting through the next 100 days.
So here it is, my 100 Unhappy days. Let’s just hope I make it to the end without climbing a bell tower with a sniper rifle. But if I don’t, well, I promise to take a picture of it.