This morning I have no cream for my coffee. Coffee sucks without cream, or milk, or some white substance which tastes like, but isn’t, cream. I knew last night that I should run out and get some milk and toilet paper (two basic necessities in my household), but was too swamped with homework to run to the store. So here I sit trying to focus on the task at hand, and my toast is sitting like a lump in my stomach, waiting, grumbling for my morning cup’a joe.

While I don’t consider myself a creature of habit, this mild coffee addiction is upsetting my constitution. Just a little rumble, a little movement, a little gripping pain, ok let’s face it. I feel a little icky.

I was informed as recently as last night that at my tender age of 46 there will always be something thats just not quite right; a twinge, a pain, a grumble, a sprain, trumpeting erupting burps, or rip roaring gas, something is always not quite right.

Maybe I need more fruit or fiber in my diet. Good god! Did I really think that? Anyway…icky.

Here’s the strange bit, I’m also blissfully happy. Radiant. Happy. Wear sunglasses indoors, happy. Smile at perfect strangers, happy. Whistling sappy love songs off key, happy. Drop the book on my face while studying, falling asleep with a stupid grin. Happy.

Absolutely and Indecently. Happy.

Ever have two oppositional emotions at the same time?
Ever fall and hurt yourself and find that your laughing uncontrollably?
Or wake up with a migraine in the arms of the one you love most?

That’s it….happy icky.

The best part. This “happy icky” feeling, it’s not new. I’ve had it for the better part of two years now. AND…I’m not ALONE. My partner has it too.

My family and friends are either envious because they got “no happy icky”, or they have their own “happy icky” thang going on and are reveling in the oddity of it all.

I wish you a happy day, and if it’s unfortunately icky, then try to have a happy icky day!

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