This morning, as I was at the office, thinking unofficey things, I started my normal a.m. inner dialogue with Higher Self and The People.

Inner dialogues around these parts usually go something like this: What. The. F. Just WHERE have you been anyway you whorebags?!.

Thankfully, Higher Self and The People know exactly the loving connotation whorebags contains in this context. Truly now. Term of endearment.

So I get up and start taking a mini office walk. Aren’t office walks great? Perfect temporary distraction and they wake you up. It’s such a win-win.

As I stumbled into one of the empty rooms that no one rarely ever goes in, but that I’m constantly drawn to, I saw a book laying in the corner. And I knew. My message was there, waiting.

My message game with books is such: open to random page and read the first thing that jumps out at me — this will be my message, and no second chances allowed. I will immediately close the book.

Sometimes this is a big win and sometimes an epic fail. Like the time I read how one should go put on lingerie and sex up their man. Not like I’m against either of those … but um … 8am. at places of employment don’t really fit that bill.

This morning I felt like I hit the book message f-ing jackpot.

The second lesson for enduring happiness is this: Just Do The Next Right Thing.

This, People. I can do this. I mean, I surely can’t tell you what The Next Right Thing is on a big scale, but if I approach right now and ask myself, Self, what is the next right thing?

I know! Like for real for real know!

The Next Right Thing is to go enjoy the afternoon sunshine. It is to get out and move with Murphy. It is yoga and breath.

Is this actually how simple life is? That I just need to be continuously asking, what is the next right thing for me?

I think it is, People. And I don’t think I’ll be led astray. The Next Right Thing. Come on now, we’ve got this. Together.