The 92-year-old, thin, calm and proud lady, who is fully dressed each morning by eight o'clock, even though she is nearly blind, moved 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 smiled sweetly when told her room was ready. As she walked slowly to the elevator, I provided a true description of her tiny room, including the old sheets that had been hung on her window. "I love it," she said with the happiness of an eight-year-old girl having just been presented with a new puppy. "Mrs. Jones, you haven't seen the room...just wait." "That doesn't matter," she replied. "Happiness is something you decide ahead of time. Whether I like my room or not doesn't depend on how the furniture is arranged. It's how I arranged my mind. I have already decided to love it. It's a decision I make every morning when I wake up. 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." She went on to explain, "Old age is like a bank account. You take what you've put in. So, my advice to you would be to put in a lot of happiness in the bank account of memories. Thank you for your part in filling my memory bank." And with a smile, she said, "All my memories are happy ones." Mrs. Jones was always happy in the nursing home and she died at the age of 108. Mrs. Jones was very happy when told about her room because she   _  .
couldn't see what her room was like thought the nursing home was her home would have to live in the nursing home had already made up her mind to be happy