I'm all inspired and continuing the happiness trend started by Messy Freckle and picked up by my gorgeous friend Mrs Kypo.
Wow, what fun; picking out things that make me googly-eyed, jolly, giggly and just downright fun to be around.
There are squillions of things that make me happy, but here's my handful of ten, in no particular order:
A long, hot shower at the end of the day. I work from home and it serves as my emotional separation between work and play. Very important for a home-worker. It used to be a bath, but my new apartment (while fantastic) doesn't have a bath. We don't like to talk about it.
Watching my two dogs sleep cuddled up together like an old married couple. They fight by day, but at night, it's spoon baby, spoon. Same as the rest of us.
My boyfriend's laugh. Not the half-hearted version; the sudden and joyful gutteral laugh that only happens when he finds something a genuine riot. A friend of mine once pointed out how great B's laugh is, and I've been agreeing with her ever since.
Closing the door to the rest of my household and lying in bed, nice and early, with an episode of Gossip Girl, True Blood or Mad Men and snuggled under the covers. Me time.
Cooking elaborate dishes on a Sunday afternoon, with the radio spun to the classical channel and my iPhone turned off. Bliss.
Books I can't put down. These are rare finds; little gems I've mined through metres of rock-hard reads to unearth. Recent ones include Unbearable Lightness by Portia deRossi, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson and A Thousand Splendid Suns by the ah-mazing Khaled Hosseini.
Blogs, blogging and bloggers. I started my blog in 2009 on a kind of whim, expecting it to be another one of my half-finished "projects" that I pick up and play with, before dropping like a hot potato when something new piques my interest. In this case: No, no and nope. I got hooked on blogging... the diary, the release, the interaction and the inspiration.
Buttery, salty, popcorn. Lots of it. I will literally starve myself before a late-night movie, so I can order the largest size they have. B typically won't buy anything and will then stick his predatory fingers deep into MY popcorn when the theatre lights are down (thinking I won't notice) until I slap them out of the way and accost him for stealing what he decided not to buy. Of course, halfway through the box, I decide I can't eat anymore and it ends up cold, banished to the underneath of my chair with B smirking next to me.
Dancing to tragic eighties songs on dance floors way past my bedtime after way too much wine. Yes it happens. Frequently, in fact, and I always find myself grinning from ear to ear while shaking my booty and vowing to return the next night. Which I am always way too headachy and mortified to fathom.
Getting off planes. Once upon a time, it used to be getting on planes. Planes heralded the promise of travel, of little food compartments, free movies, clouded windows and smiling flight attendants. Now, getting on planes heralds the promise of flying phobias, cardboard food, yet another night slept in a chair and grumpy flight attendants. And getting off planes can mean only one of two things: arriving at a holiday destination or arriving home, to my dogs and warm bed. Both are two of my favourite places.
Fancy continuing the happiness trend on your blog? What makes you go 'ga ga'?