The Tao Of Lysa

No one likes it when Lysa gets angry. Or quiet. She's normally the most congenial, warm hearted, celebratory person on the planet. Everyone counts on Lysa to be that way because without her positivity, they're up a creek. It's a dreary job, tied to a desk in connected open air cubicles punching numbers all day. Important in it's own chain of command, being a bureaucracy and all, but no one here's creating world peace or curing cancer. Hell, they barely accomplish their limited portfolios they're assigned; that's why everyone loves Lysa. She bakes, she makes crafts, she organizes goodbye parties and maternity cards, best wishes on your promotion pies and have a lovely honeymoon in Manitoba montages that play out with their own soundtrack. Single, petite, mid thirties although she'll never tell. Her co workers obsess over her ability to function so highly and remain preternaturally happy. All. The. Time. Some say she eats children and kills small animals on weekends so that her super pep is all one elaborate cover up for her closeted psychopathic self.  if they only knew. They jest but really, it's unnerving. While everyone else struggles with the daily toil and trouble of LIFE, Lysa seems to take everything in stride. It's always a half full kinda day in Lysa's world. However, no one has ever broached the subject directly with her, fearing what they might discover. That it really is possible to be happy, by choice or design. The choice aspect freaks the crap out of all of them. The idea that one can choose to be happy, joyful, content, self actualized. But maybe it's true. It certainly changes the energy in the break room. One day, over some cupcakes Lysa brings in, someone will have the gumption to broach the subject. Then maybe, just maybe they can be happy too. Or hang out with her some dark and lonely Saturday night and hunt small mammals. Whatever.

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