There's something so fatally optimistic about saying - as I have announced here too often - "this is the first day of the reset rest of my life."

Of course it is. The sun rises every morning (although sometime undetectable behind the clouds). Every day we have a new to chance to do new or exciting or worthwhile things or win a victory over our pain or our deamons. But most likely we will fail. It can still turn out to be a happy day, though. Like any other.

What I am saying is that I woke up this morning, feeling happy, but feeling fallible.

I seem to have spent most of my life in a doomed drive to be perfect. Beating myself up for not achieving the impossible sooner.

Today, too, I have impossible dreams, but I hope to stay in touch with the ground, and Happiness Central.