SadHappy

This is me.
There are very few days when I wake up in a Pollyanna state of mind. I once worked with someone who DID ascribe to the Pollyanna school of smiles and who I totally admired and wished for the world I could be half as enthusiastic about the most mundane things as she was. And probably still is. She moved on to bigger, better and brighter things.

She was the type of person who actually relished waking up in the mornings. Before the alarm had gone off even. She was woken by birdsong and not by some monotoned drill assaulting her eardrums. She said she woke up appreciating the fact she wasn't disabled or senile and that she had life enough to enjoy another day. She wasn't even religious. In the past I'd have hooted inwardly but I actually envied her this passion and wished I could have some of it please.
Just a milligramme.
Occasionally.
Today was a Good Day. A better than usual day. I didn't wake up with a headache from not having a decent night's sleep through want of trying (or the irritation of snores beside me) and I actually felt refreshed. I even woke up ten minutes before the alarm. A pigeon may have cooed.

Constantly happy people annoy me. The way they can always see the positive in any situation. They're the Cornflake Ad people. The ones who throw off their duvet at cock crow, find their slippers in an instant and get the right one on the right foot, spring gailey down the stairs to their beautiful kitchen/breakfast room and join their equally annoyingly cheerful brethren around a chequered gingham tablecloth whilst whistling a happy tune and eagerly expect happy things to befall them for the remainder of their day.
Sheesh.
I absolutely KNOW that if I were to try and recreate this charmingly insanely optimistic lifestyle I would end up chewing the rough bits off the soles of my feet by lunchtime. I couldn't do it. I would be too expectant of the axe of discontent dropping to counteract the unexpected Goodness I'd experienced. The Ying Yang principle. The Good-v-Bad syndrome. The X-Y conundrum.
Is it just me?
Did Freud miss out on a whole case study here?