This story is about a 92-year-old, short, well-behaved and proud lady. She is fully dressed each morning by eight, with her hair fashionably done and makeup perfectly applied, even though she is totally blind. She is moving to a nursing home today. Her husband of 70 years recently passed away, making the move necessary. After many hours of waiting patiently in the hall of the nursing home, she moved to the elevator, I provided a visual description of her tiny room, including the eyelet  sheets that had been hung on her window."I love it," she stated with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old girl having just been presented with a new puppy. "Mrs. Jones, you haven't seen the room yet. Just wait." "That doesn't have anything to do with it," she replied. "Happiness is something you decide on ahead of time. Whether I like my room or not doesn't depend on how the furniture is arranged, it's a decision I make every morning when I wake up." "I have a choice; I can spend the day in bed recounting  the difficulty I have with the parts of my body that no longer work, or get out of bed and be thankful for the ones that do. Each day is a gift, and as long as my eyes open I'll focus on the new day and all the happy memories I've stored away, just for this time in my life. Old age is like a bank account, you withdraw  from what you've put in. So, my advice to you would be to deposit  a lot of happiness in the bank account of memories. Thank you for your part in filling my memory bank. I am still depositing." When I described the room in which the lady would live, she was  _  .
disappointed angry happy sad