This is a song about a whale, NO this is a song about being happy!
That’s right!
Its the happy happy, joy joy song!

Happy happy, joy joy
Happy happy, joy joy

Ren and Stimpy, “Happy Happy Joy Joy Song”

Yes, today was a good day.  It wasn’t my birthday, I didn’t win the lottery or anything else incredible or newsworthy (although I do believe my birthday is newsworthy, it wasn’t my birthday), but still, it was good.  The morning started out with some great suckiness potential.

I get up at 4:40am so I can be at work at the ungodly hour of 6am.  That should be enough to ruin just about any day.  But when I got on the scale this morning, holy crap!  I weighed less than I have in a year and a half!  I’m back to the weight I was when I met The Boyfriend, and we all know Dating Weight is only applicable while you’re still dating.  We’ve been living together for over a year now, so by all rights, I should weigh at least 10 or 12 extra pounds – more if you go by the highly scientific “1 lb per month x 13 months living together” equation, which is the standard for relationships in North America and most of Europe.

Knowing that helped ease the drudgery of going to work when it’s still dark.  Seriously, if I have to leave the house before the paper boy gets there, that’s just plain unreasonable.  And today I knew I had The Route From Hell waiting for me.  The Number One Ultimate Supreme Route From Hell even.
First, let me explain what I do for a living.  I read meters.  No, not those parking meters that are conveniently located right between the street and the sidewalk.  Utility meters, which are conveniently located between the Doberman on speed and the sleeping junkie hidden in the backyard.  And it’s my job to go into that backyard, unannounced, and read the meter.  You know that neighbor with the psycho dog that chews through the fence and terrorizes the entire neighborhood?  Yeah, that backyard.  About 250 times.  In one day.

But as much as that can suck, The Number One Ultimate Supreme Route From Hell is the worst.  The neighborhood is bad, the dogs are all bad, and even the street numbers are bad, so you climb over piles of trash and fight a couple of Rottweilers to get to the meter, then realize that particular house is on someone else’s route.  And before you even get to the backyards, you have to read 600 mobile homes in a rundown trailer park a mile away.

On the bright side, my cursing vocabulary has greatly increased since I got this route.

So that’s what I had in store for me this morning.  Though slightly buoyed by my amazing new hot bod (wink wink, nudge nudge), I was not looking forward to the day.  I arrived at work, grabbed my handheld computer and saw – Yes!  The new system the company had installed had been turned on!  800 reads that make you want to cry were turned into 118 “Meh – not so bad” reads!

I was given an additional short route to read, in another lovely part of town, right under the freeway.  I know it must have looked odd, seeing me in my work truck, parked in front of the local “mature dancers only, teeth optional” strip club at 6:30 in the morning, but I didn’t care.  It was a damn fine day, if I do say so myself.  Later that morning, as I read one of those seedy apartment complexes that always smell of stale smoke, I stepped out of the way for someone that was obviously the local Ladies Man.  “I just saw your smile from across the parking lot and thought I’d come over and investigate.  And let me tell you, I am not disappointed.”  I waited for the scent of Courvoisier, then smiled politely.  An hour later, a landscaper said he liked my eyes.  Hey, I don’t care if he did say it on broken English, it’s a compliment, dammit!
In the afternoon, I found a cute little Chihuahua mix on my route that barked at me, then decided I must not be too bad.  I walked into the yard and he balanced himself on my leg, snuggling up against my knee.  I rubbed his furry little ears and felt a warm… hey!  Little Dude was so excited, he peed on my leg!  Yeah, but who can be mad when your day is so amazingly good.

Even after work was good.  I drove to my hairdresser to make an appointment for next week.  It’s been so long that I’m starting to look like I did in the 70s, back when my mom permed my hair.  That’s only one step above the Flowbee Mullet hair, and I’m never going there.  If you’ve ever had either, a home perm or a Flowbee haircut, you know what I’m talking about.  Thankfully, the sheepdog look will be ending tomorrow afternoon.  More goodness!

So now I’m home and off to hit the showers.  Yes, someday I’ll have one of those Pretty Girl desk jobs, but for now, I come home covered in sweat.  And goodness.

And apparently puppy pee.



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