How rude...wait...how nice?

Greetings,
my bank teller friend said the other day, "Must be nice to be you." Well, thank you very much Lauren. It is just swell. Thanks for noticing.
At the time, I was a little miffed. She may not have noticed the broken finger, the cracked and bleeding hands, and the general fact that my pittance account is completely supported by a construction loan that implodes in five months.
Silly woman. In retrospect, though, I think her comment, casual as it may have been delivered, is fairly well placed. My life is pretty good. I love what I do. It is too intense currently but I could manage that better. I am spending time with people I have everything and nothing in common with: a simple wish left over when leaving my white collar job. And I am running my own dog and pony show.
Good stuff. I eat like anything I want because I burn many caloric units swinging a hammer and posing for pictures/signing autographs. You know. I have great friends. And my girlfriend's dog doesn't bite me.
I can spel pretty good and my ex wife doesn't hate me though she could. My truck starts and does the hard work eventhough it is slowly transforming into a piece of poo. And my emotional baggage fits into the overhead compartment with out an extra over-weight charge.
Nice, really.
So, thank you Lauren. Really. I hope I can keep a perspective on things such as this. 'cause Lauren just said something. I made it mean something bothersome. And now, I made it mean something pleasant.
Neither is right or wrong. But the latter works much better for me.
Pass another plate of pancakes this way please.