I'm working on my attitude. That it's a bad attitude goes without saying. I feel bad just having an attitude this foul, muttering and misanthropic.

But you try spending a minimum of four hours a day reading a daily report on the planet. I have a window on the world. Tragically, it's not one of those windows Raoul Dufy painted in the 1920s looking over regattas and the beach at Nice. (Do click on that link, it's lovely).

It's more like the window I am told is used in the hoses of the more upmarket colonic irrigation clinics so that you can see what's coming out. Seriously, some people want to know this. Talk about killer sales technique. You'll pay anything after looking in that window.

The economic news is dire, people are behaving more cruelly than seems usual and there is little good to be said for the human species.

So when I say I want to change my attitude, I'll have to take it step by step. Each of the following would normally enrage me. But I'm aiming for a sunny outlook from the Happy Window!

1. Former prime minister Brian Mulroney has admitted he paid tax on only half of the cash he got from Karlheinz Schreiber in those hotel rooms. He then confessed to having used the money to pay for university fees for his children.

This means that I put my two stepchildren through a collective decade of college and university without the Mulroney discount. And then I also forked over, via my taxes, for his kids, too.

This makes me crazy.

New attitude: Imagine the toe-curling embarrassment of being Caroline Mulroney, who has just discovered that she went through law school on the wings of a German bagman. Thanks, Dad. Bet she won't be going to her reunion. Have pity on the child.

We've all bought mistakes

2. My local newspaper ran an article that I am required to cheer; it's part of the feminist gig. It was written by a nice woman, a self-described flabby, sedentary, French-fry-loving, middle-aged person who wanted to wear a bikini on vacation. I'm with her here. I mean, it's Florida, it's not like you're going to run into anyone you know, and your family is stuck with you.

So she bravely wandered into a store and bought one, her first mistake. Buying a bikini is a science project, not a whim, and she neglected what cathedral builders call setback buttressing. The top was not up to the task and the bottom was abbreviated too early, like a navy blue trapezoid, or the cap of a Swiss border guard, glued to her lower parts.

Still with you, sister! We've all bought mistakes. Yesterday, for example, I bought a pair of cobalt blue bondage leggings made of lace, of all things. They're a husband-tester, as in: "Will you still love me/acknowledge me in public?" They're the equivalent of a man wearing leather pants. No, I won't, would be my answer, but my husband is a civilized sort.

Then this woman made her women's rights clanger: She agreed to be photographed top-to-tail in this garment. Wearing flats and a pair of reading glasses I once left behind in a restaurant called Allen's and was too embarrassed to pick up.

And I, a feminist — did I mention that? — looked at the page and said to my husband, "Dear God in heaven, do I look like that, kill me now." He said no, I threw the paper out, then I made him go back to the recycling bin to retrieve it and now I keep her frontal by the TV with my wrist weights and the rear view taped to the fridge.

New attitude: Nothing matters, as long as you have your health.

New new attitude: Jesus, Mary and Joseph, it's small portions and take the stairs.

New new new attitude: Now I am a never nude.

3. I like to shop. When times got tough, I made a vow never to buy anything unless it was at least 30 per cent off.

New attitude: I now buy 30 per cent more stuff.

New new attitude: Stop this.

Indestructibility is a virtue

4. OK, I bought the lace leggings because of a violent emotional reaction to a Roots ad for something called the Liberty Pant. Since when are pants singular? They're black nylon pants that Roots claims won't fade, pill, shrink, cling or wear out. One enthusiastic customer says she has three pairs and wears them all year. "Too long? Not a problem, just trim off the hem a wee bit, no need to sew!"

In other words, they're Scottish pants. They are what the American humorist Jean Kerr would sum up as pants for the "Once I Was Considered Plain — Today I Am a Mess" crowd. And hey, I overreacted.

New attitude: Indestructibility is a virtue as in Keith Richards, not a vice as in Dick Cheney. Celebrate the eternal pant.

5. I love Barack Obama. My love for him is pure and true. And now sorely tested. I could cope with the credit card bill rider that authorizes Americans to take loaded guns into national parks. Massacre, campsite No. 46, RV breakfast nook!

But I couldn't cope with the failure to prosecute torturers, who were just following orders.

New attitude: Anyone loved by Sasha and Malia gets extra credit.

New new attitude: He's a bit Eisenhower-bland. On the other hand, he's also a bit … Eisenhower-bland.

New new new attitude: Repeat.