Today I am choosing my happiness. I choose to look at everything sunny-side up.

Choosing sounds like one decision made at breakfast and then held all day. It is more like a hundred small ones, most of them made in the two seconds after something goes wrong.

The train is cancelled. There is a gap, brief, before the whole day gets reclassified. That gap is where the choosing actually happens, and it comes round again at eleven, and again after lunch. Nobody wins all hundred. Winning sixty is a noticeably different day from winning twenty.

Your first one will arrive within the hour, probably over something small enough to feel beneath mentioning.