If you follow the adventures of Star Girl, you’d get the title reference.
Last week, my happy wagon was down to two pebbles. This morning, it was up to eight. (Get my mood swings? Crazy! I know.)
We were taking up a series at my workplace devotion time and we had to answer how we rate our joy at work. My workmates gave solid answers of 8 to 10 (1o being the highest) and expressed how joyful they are to be where they are now. I was definitely going to say two but not without saying today I was an 8, which basically gave me an average of 6.
Anyway, I blurted out 2 and cried. Because they were all looking at me like I’m some wacko; like they couldn’t believe I’d be that unhappy. To be fair, I was being dramatic. Anyway, long story short, I refused to explain my rating because I have decided nobody should know about it.
Too late for that. Thankfully, they didn’t pry further although they insisted I give an insight about it. I think I made everybody sad with that admission. Because, really, in that table, I was the happiest, bubbliest person there ever was.
How sad is that?