Grumpy people make me smile.

It's not easy being a Pollyanna, you know. Debbie Downers (I like that better than "Negative Nellies", so I stole it from a new friend) constantly wear at me. Circumstances swirl around me, and it's not always easy being the "rock solid, market wise" one (as Gimpius Maximus once dubbed me).

For example, I just got back from visiting one of my employees in the hospital, where he is recovering from cancer surgery. It was difficult keeping his spirits up before the surgery, when the prognosis was worse than reality. Now that the surgery is over, and it turned out better than expected... Do you know how hard it is to be funny enough to cheer someone up but not make him laugh so hard that he hurts?

Then my buddy Robomarkov has needed my support working his way toward a divorce. If that weren't enough, two other blows to his psyche and stamina followed. (I'm not at liberty to discuss them.) It's also difficult to provide positive support repeatedly without dipping into the fount of negativity, but I'm managing.

Mind you, my life isn't all bad. Actually, I'm glad for having Miss Kitty and Froggy as Debbie Downers at work. Froggy is a constant reminder that, when you expect something negative, that's what you get. Miss Kitty is like the yin to my yang (or is that the yang to my yin?). At the start of June, she stopped instigating conversations with me. In our daily managers meetings (where we sit across the table from each other), if there's anything she needs my crew to do, she will ask Skippy, not me. Then, at the start of this month, she completely stopped talking to me. Even if I say nothign but "good morning" when she walks in the door, she won't answer. (Thing One picked up on this right away. Skippy observed it once but, ignorant saint of a man that he is, probably assumed she didn't hear me rather than chose to snub me.) Her morning shift supervisor waved and smiled when we drove by each other. Miss Kitty, who was driving right behind her, ignored me. Actually, I've started to enjoy this. I now make a game out of it: being nice to her on purpose. I can't help but grin. Once, I laughed because it's so funny.

The old me would've called her a "bitch on wheels" or a "sour old cow". The positive me prefers to think that this is her way of approaching a painless retirement. Imagine the poor, old dear so downcast at leaving me behind at the end of the year, that she forces herself to ignore me, in the hopes that it will make her departure less painful. She even separated her preparations into two, three-month parts, kind of easing into it, you know? Oh, however will she live without me?

Dang it, I'm smiling again! :)